


We Share The Same Skies

by h9mie, kits nba throwaway (h9mie)



Category: Men's Basketball RPF, NBA - Fandom, sixers
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Wholesome, man i rly hate that i typed out the words basketball rpf, sfw, soft whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25985962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h9mie/pseuds/h9mie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/h9mie/pseuds/kits%20nba%20throwaway
Summary: - - - THIS WORK DOES NOT DEPICT REAL EVENTS, NOR WOULD I EVER WANT IT TO. this work exists completely outside of real life events and should not be imposed on any real life people or events. the characters in this work are characters. all of this is fiction. - - -- - - trigger warning for medical weirdness but there aren’t any graphic descriptions or anything, just if hospitals/head injuries are a trigger for you I’d suggest being careful - - -i started this as a joke. i don't think it's a joke anymore. dedicated to carlos, justin, ava, andrew, anne, brandi, and anyone else i've sent this thing to---basketball himbos, but make it hurt/comfortvery in progresslol i guess in this fandom you should just take what you can get---chapters named after songs from accompanying playlist right here but not necessarily correlated. i put too much thought into this https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Csa9DNiiBLjCu65a7Kaom?si=CojiBFg-R--N68bDoFtdLw
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	1. obstacle 2

Dario wasn’t home, but he felt like he was. On the drive into Philadelphia from the airport he passed that injury lawyer billboard he’d seen too many times, that Pond LeHocky one with the Eagles logo, and one too many Steven Singer ads.  _ Oh, they’ve upgraded to hinting at saying “fuck Steven Singer?” That’s new. _ Dario wasn’t home, even as he passed that brightly colored mural near his apartment building, or the little corner store he frequented, or his favorite pizza shop, the one on South Street with those giant slices. And while all of that felt like home, he knew he wasn’t home when he stepped onto the court at Wells Fargo Center and the cheers weren’t for him. 

_ There’s the locker room. There’s the media tunnel. There’s the bench. There’s all your old friends. There’s Brett Brown. There’s Franklin. There’s that one dunk squad girl you always thought was into you. Oh fuck, there’s Christian Crosby. I forgot about that guy.  _ Dario shook those thoughts out of his head and joined Kelly and Aron for a shoot around, not daring to look to the other side of the court. 

First quarter.  _ Play your heart out. There’s not going to be that little tribute for you this time, it’s okay. You’re just some guy playing basketball, it’s fine.  _ Three. Assist to Devin.  _ You’re on fire, you’re on fire, you’re guarding Joel. He’s not even looking in my eyes. Shit.  _ Kelly shot Dario a look, confused as to why he was being so clumsy, tripping over himself, close to screaming at the refs for every foul. He didn’t know, there was no way to know, he was trying his best. He was trying his best.

Second quarter. Three after three, doing what he did best back when Philadelphia loved him.  _ Everything’s fine. You can nail these free throws. It’ll be fine, you’re fine. See? Look at you. You’re doing great. Someone’s wearing my old number court-side. I don’t think this city has forgotten about me just yet. Should I want them to? Should I _ — Dario was shaken from his thoughts by the buzzer.

Halftime.

Wells Fargo Center didn’t want him. Should he just brick both of his next free throws as a nod to his old hometown? Would he be able to get a free Frosty at the airport? Would no one but Mikal Bridges dare to look at him on the flight home?  _ Shit, I don’t know. _ Dario could barely focus. Half-comprehended words floated by as he stared up at the Jumbotron. They had replaced it since he left.  _ That’s new. _ The floor was different, too. Different ads streaming around the stands.  _ Same Wendy’s cardboard cutouts, though.  _ Another buzzer.  _ Time to get back out there.  _

Third quarter.  _ Easy layups. Drop 30 again like however many years ago. Don’t look anyone in the eyes. Don’t try it.  _ Dario looked up. Pass from Frank. He went in for a layup and, classically, slipped. Hit his head on the hardwood. Everything went black for a second, little bubbles of color around the edges. The ref almost blew the whistle. But Dario was fine. He scrambled to get up and kept going. The ball went in, after all. He wasn’t hurt. He felt fine. The court spun around him. He was disoriented. He couldn’t see out of his left eye, sure, but he was fine. It didn’t even hurt. 

Fourth quarter. Dario’s head was buzzing, his ears were ringing, he knew his eyes were tearing up but could barely feel them. He felt both heavy and weightless, and nauseous. He didn’t know where the ball was. He had to keep going. He couldn’t embarrass himself here, like this, like —  _ shit, I don’t even know half of these guys’ names. This isn’t my city anymore, it’s not my place, it’s  _ — He paused, momentarily. Even if he was benched he didn’t think he would know which bench to go to. He didn’t know where he was anymore, or what jersey he was wearing, or what year it was. And then, that funky little jingle started playing over the speakers, and Dario was swept off the court by his teammates before he could even think of giving any of his old friends a postgame high five.

“You’re sure you’re feeling okay?” A hazy figure approached Dario in the locker room, where he was fumbling with his AirPods, trying to put on some music for the drive back to the hotel. He couldn’t recognize who it was. They looked like a blur, half of their face covered by a blind spot.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t want to get evaluated by the medical team?”

“No, it’s alright. I feel fine,” Dario reassured whoever was talking to him, as well as himself. 

“Alright, well... if you need anything, I’m pretty sure my hotel room is right next to yours.” 

Ricky, Dario remembered all of a sudden. “Yeah, thanks. When are we headed out?”

“Now, I think.”

“... I wanted to say hi...” Dario mumbled, half to himself, half to Ricky, who was about five feet ahead and definitely not listening. He stumbled to catch up, barely catching himself. If anyone saw him in that state, they would know there was something wrong. Luckily, Dario was able to straighten himself out and assume his seat on the Suns team bus for the drive back to the hotel. 

Philadelphia looked beautiful at night, even if the lights all swirled together and everything was unintelligible. Dario pressed his forehead to the window, half for the cool condensation to try to quell his headache, half entranced by the lights of the city, like a first grader on a field trip, never having been this far from home before. Dario’s head was still buzzing. He couldn’t even think about how he felt, but he knew he missed it, or there was a piece of him missing, or something. He was a ghost with residual energy, and Philadelphia was the house he haunted. 

Dario fumbled with his hotel key card for a good thirty seconds before the little light on the lock finally went green. When he made it into his room, he had no idea what to do.  _ Unpack. No, it’s only one night. Get changed. Take a shower, you’re disgusting. Go to sleep, you have a headache. No, take a shower first. Get changed. Go to sleep. Call your parents. Tell them you lost. Unpack. No, it’s only one night. Shower. _

After trudging through a much-needed shower, Dario struggled to even get into some old sweatpants and a t shirt from god knows when. It didn’t even make a good outfit. Why should he care, though? He was just going to go to sleep, anyway. His head was pounding, the hotel room seemed to be spinning around him... He was hearing things, he was hearing Marc Zumoff calling his shots however many years ago, he heard the distinct ringing of a bell in some locker room somewhere... or... was it his phone ringing?

“Dario?”

“Yeah, hey Kelly.”

“We’ve got team dinner. Come downstairs.”

“I think... I think I might skip...”

“You alright?”

“Mmh, yeah, just tired.”

“You don’t sound good, man.”

“I’m fine,” Dario sighed, closing his eyes to try to ignore the blind spots.

“Alright, well... rest up. I can bring you something later if you want.”

Dario finished up his conversation and then flopped back on the hotel bed, the impact sending another wave of dizziness through his head. Why didn’t he tell the medical team?

After what felt like only a minute, Dario’s phone buzzed.

**JOEL** : hey man sorry we didn’t get to see each other off the court

Dario picked up his phone, but it was too bright and he was too dazed to read the message. He put it down, just wanting to sleep.

**JOEL** : are you free tonight?

Dario let his phone buzz a second time, but eventually became overcome with curiosity.

**DARIO** : yeah I’m free

**JOEL** : want to come over?

**DARIO** : I’ll be there soon

Dario wanted to think his plan through, but his thoughts were floating through his head like fog through Center City. He sighed, dragged himself out of the bed, and put on his favorite denim jacket. He pocketed his phone, and his wallet, and just barely remembered his hotel key card, before stepping into the hallway, being sure to close the door gently.

Once he made it out of the hotel, Dario didn’t know what to do. It was cold out, sure, but he knew exactly where to go: he had lived in Philadelphia for two years, anyway, and of course Joel’s apartment was close to the fancy hotels and restaurants. So, he set off, staggering into the frigid February night.

_ I should have brought a hat or something _ , Dario thought to himself, bracing against the cold wind as the world blurred around him. No matter what, he had to keep going, even if his steps were clumsy and he was tripping over himself. His eyes were tearing up. He felt it this time. Hands shoved in his pockets, he trudged on.

**JOEL** : are you still coming?

It had been nearly an hour. Joel was sitting on the sofa, anxiously checking his phone every minute. He still hadn’t ordered anything for dinner. He should get on that. Dario wasn’t texting back.  _ He always did that, sometimes, remember? _

After a few more minutes, there was an erratic knock at the door. Joel laughed to himself and got up to get the door. 

When Joel opened the door, Dario nearly collapsed into his arms. Joel, caught off guard, scrambled to help Dario to his feet. Even after waiting at the door inside the building for who knows how long, he was shivering, physically cold to the touch. 

“Oh, shit,” Joel held Dario against his shoulder as he walked him to the sofa, “forgot about Philly winters?”

Dario nodded as he pressed the back of his hand to his forehead.

Joel didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know what to do, either — there was his ex best friend, obviously unwell, barely holding himself together on his tediously constructed IKEA couch. “I-I’ll get you something warm to drink. Tea?” 

Dario made a small sound of affirmation, and Joel rushed to the kitchen. He didn’t even think he had any tea; he rummaged through every cupboard and drawer until he found a little tin of something his aunt sent over from Cameroon a couple years ago, all while Dario was still freezing in his living room. 

Not much had changed about Joel’s apartment since the last time Dario had visited.  _ What was it, two years ago now? Shit, we’re all getting old.  _ Between glances to the kitchen, Dario noticed that Joel hadn’t even updated his coffee table books. Was Dario jealous? In the two years since the trade, he had had to switch cities twice, with a third time coming up due to free agency, all while his friends had the privilege to stay where they were. 

And then, some little timer went off in the kitchen, and Dario’s head started ringing again. He had bigger things to worry about than jealousy, as Joel was returning to the sofa with a warm mug of tea.

“Still want to get dinner?”

Dario nodded, too out of it to respond with words.

“Maybe play some 2k?”

Dario nodded again. He needed to switch it up, show Joel that he was still his best friend… but he couldn’t. Every time he wanted to say something, it got lost somewhere in the process. He was still freezing.

“Is everything alright…?” Joel asked hesitantly.

Dario looked up at Joel almost pleadingly, trying to find an answer somewhere. Instead of speaking, he just nodded again.

“You had a great game tonight, you know, but… are you sure you didn’t hurt yourself in the third quarter?”

“I-I did…” Dario finally managed to speak.

“You didn’t get checked out?”

Dario shook his head, causing his entire field of vision to swirl around him. He nearly dropped his mug of tea before taking another sip, grounding himself.

Once again, Joel was left clueless about how to help. “Want to order pizza? Maybe… come with me to pick it up?”

Dario nodded again, grateful that Joel was back to simple questions. Yes, he’d love to tag along. It’s what he does best.

Fifteen minutes later, Joel got a text that said the pizza was ready. “Here, put this on,” he handed a hoodie to Dario, and started towards the door.

Was this awkward? Dario didn’t know. He was too focused on trying to descend the stairs to the parking garage without collapsing. He knew Joel could see him stumbling, tripping over himself with every step. He knew he looked stupid in Joel’s oversized hoodie, the one with a giant Sixers logo right in the center for the world to see.

Dario still felt like he was home in the passenger seat of Joel’s car, watching the lights of the city blitz by. He felt like nothing had changed in the past two years, especially as Joel passed him the AUX to put on “some of that indie shit he always listened to.” 

As Joel ran in to get the pizza, Dario was left alone in the car, just him, his pounding headache, and Say Hello to the Angels playing over the car stereo. He wanted to stay there forever, almost. His brain felt like a slushee, or mashed potatoes, or something else soft and malleable and stupid. 

“You good, man?” Joel came back to the car to see Dario staring blankly ahead, eyes glazed over like a deer caught in headlights for just a little bit too long.

“Mhm, yeah, I’m good,” Dario jolted out of his trance.

“I was thinking we could go to the little park by the harbor,” Joel suggested as he started driving, “the one with the lights in the trees, and hammocks and stuff.” 

“Yeah,” Dario laughed, “y’still hang out there?”

“Sometimes…” Joel smiled as he kept himself focused on the road. Soon enough, he pulled into a parking spot in front of willow trees with hanging rainbow lights. 

**KELLY** : hey you want anything? we’re leaving but I could bring it up to ur room 

Dario read the message, but shut his phone off to grab the pizza from the backseat. As he closed the door, everything started spinning around him again. He leaned against the car for a moment before joining Joel in hopping over the wooden barrier into the park. He clumsily climbed over the barrier, nearly dropping the pizza before Joel grabbed it from him and went to sit on a flat wooden bench facing the water. Dario’s head was still spinning. The neon lights didn’t help. He quickly dusted himself off and stumbled to where Joel was sitting.

“I don’t want you to freeze to death, so if it’s too cold, just—”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dario wasn’t sure if he sounded coherent, or why Joel was so worried. Was it really that bad?

**RICKY** : Are you still in your room??

**RICKY** : I’m next door if you need anything

Dario felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but didn’t check it.

“That reminds me,” Joel laughed, “figured we should get something for the insta story…”

“You don’t text, you don’t call…?” Dario suggested, finally unclenching his jaw to shoot Joel a quick smile. 

“Perfect.”

Dario was momentarily blinded again by the flash on Joel’s phone as he opened the pizza box. He wasn’t even hungry. He just wanted to sleep, and go home, wherever that was — whether it was his old apartment in Center City or back home with his family in Croatia or god forbid, his shitty little bungalow in Phoenix that somehow always smelled like musty air conditioner no matter what he did.

“... I wish you never left, man.”

Dario nodded. He didn’t know what to say. He stared at the ominous red SEAPORT sign hovering over the harbor. He was suddenly struck by the realization that his life would never, ever be the same as it was before. His vision blurred again. His stomach churned. He wasn’t hungry, no matter how good the pizza looked.

“I mean, not even just in basketball terms, like… I miss having you around,” Joel admitted, almost shyly, uncharacteristically. Dario didn’t think Joel had ever been this soft-spoken around him, or maybe it was just the concussion speaking. 

“I miss being here,” Dario finally spoke up again, not sure if he was coherent.

**DEVIN** : where are you

“You hungry?” Joel asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

“N-No…” Dario held onto the side of the bench, suddenly feeling like everything was spinning again.

_ Missed call from Devin _

“I really think you should get checked out, man. Something’s not right.”

“I-I know, but… I wanted to finish the game.”

“Yeah?”

“Prove I was still good…”

“You’re great, Dario. You looked amazing out there.”

“... Does this city still love me?”

“I mean... I don’t know. I still do. Stop being so philosophical,” Joel looked over at Dario, who was obviously completely out of his mind, staring ahead at the SEAPORT sign, dazed. “We could get going, if you want… I could take you back to your hotel, or we could play some 2k — they did you dirty in that game, you know — or I could take you to urgent care…”

“2k,” Dario mumbled, not wanting to face any consequences just yet. 

“Yeah, let’s go… I don’t want you freezing to death again.”

**KELLY** : where the hell are you I’ve been knocking on your door for like fifteen minutes

Dario’s phone buzzed again, but he continued to ignore it. He followed Joel back to the car and climbed in, slowly this time, not wanting to disorient himself again. Something felt right about all of this, no matter how terrible he felt physically. Something about just being at home, even if it was just for one stupid night, with one stupid head injury…

_ Five missed calls from Kelly _

_ Missed call from Ricky _

“Dude, your phone is going ballistic,” Joel glanced over at Dario, who was slumped against the seat, staring into space again. “You should probably answer that.”

“Not yet.”

Joel could barely even hear Dario over whatever the hell he was playing on AUX. “I don’t like seeing you like this, man.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to go home.”

“You don’t have to— Not now, at least.”

**KELLY** : Dario where the fuck are you

**KELLY** : the med team wants to make sure you’re alright

Joel basically had to carry Dario back up to his apartment, and when they got there, he sat him back down on the sofa and tried to figure out what to do. 

“Do you… do you just want to take a nap, maybe? I mean, I’m going to start up 2k anyway, but… you’re not looking great.”

“Yeah, Jo. Sounds good,” Dario affirmed, smiling sleepily as he grabbed a pillow that had been tossed to the floor.

**KELLY** : answer your fucking phone

**KELLY** : why on earth are you on Joel Embiid’s insta

**KELLY** : might get traded if you don’t answer

Joel turned off the lights and started up the PS4. Despite wanting to sleep, Dario looked up at him, in awe, somehow. This was happening.

“At least they made me look alright in this game,” Joel laughed, “they built you like a brick, though.”

“‘s just how it is sometimes, y’know?” 

“Yeah, Dario. I missed you, man.”

“I missed you too,” Dario sighed, “I wish things could be like this forever.”  _ Suspended in the calm chaos of midnight in Philadelphia. Forever. It would never be morning. Dario’s brain would feel like a slushee for eternity, but he would be here, with Joel, away from the world. Away from basketball. Away from everything that made real life so unbearable.  _

“They will be, at some point. We’ll get back to this,” Joel grinned, “damn, they really did make you ugly in this game.”

Dario watched the light from the PS4 flicker around the dark apartment. Despite his pounding headache, he wouldn’t trade this for the world.


	2. say hello to the angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want your silent parts, the parts the birds love  
> I know there's such a place  
> I had my back turned, you didn't realize  
> I'm lonely  
> You lack the things to which I relate  
> But I see no harm

Joel still didn’t know what to do. Obviously, the logical choice would be to get Dario back to his hotel room before anyone got too mad, and of course, alert the Suns medical staff. However, Dario just looked too peaceful, half asleep on Joel’s sofa, eyelids fluttering as he watched the 2k avatars flit across the screen.

“You can go to sleep if you want, Homie,” Joel said as he got up to get a box of Cheez-Its from the kitchen.

**KELLY** : Dario you’re getting fucking traded

**KELLY** : this is not ok

Dario wanted to say something in protest, almost; he didn’t want to waste a single moment of being here, being home, finally. His phone was still buzzing. He couldn’t even check it if he wanted to. 

**KELLY** : you’re fucking done 

When Joel came back from the kitchen, Dario had fallen asleep.  _ I guess I’ll just wake him up in an hour to bring him back to his hotel. No big deal. _ Joel sat on the sofa with his box of Cheez-Its and kept playing 2k. At some point, he traded Dario to his hypothetical Sixers roster. An hour flew by before Joel even knew it, between glances down at Dario, who was still asleep next to him.

“Dario, bud,” Joel tapped Dario’s shoulder gently, hoping to wake him up. Nothing. He gently shook him. Still nothing. “Dario, come on…” Joel tried again. Nothing was working. He shook him again. Nothing. 

_ Was that… was that a bad idea? _ Joel didn’t know what to do — he could move Dario into his guest room and let him sleep, or he could bring him back to his hotel, even if he wouldn’t wake up, or — Dario’s phone buzzed again on the coffee table. Joel picked it up.

**RICKY** : Dario please answer

**KELLY** : still getting traded

_ Oh, okay, this is bad _ , Joel thought to himself as he saw all of the missed texts and calls. He had to guess Dario’s password if he wanted to make any progress.  _ 4894? _ Joel tapped it in. First guess. Too easy.

**DARIO** : Okay, hi, this is Joel Embiid. I’m on Dario’s phone

**KELLY** : where the fuck is Dario is he ok

**DARIO (JOEL)** : he’s here at my apartment, he’s safe  **JOEL** : he mentioned he hit his head or something and didn’t get checked out

**KELLY** : you could have told us like hours ago or just been responsible and brought him back to the hotel

**JOEL** : this isn’t the time to fight he fell asleep an hour ago and isn’t waking up 

**KELLY** : oh shit

**KELLY** : I’ll tell the med staff

**JOEL** : thanks, I can send my address if you want to come pick him up

**KELLY** : they said he’s going straight to ER this is serious 

**KELLY** : 911 now

Joel looked back down at Dario, who still looked peaceful, somehow, happy, almost. He was just asleep. Breathing steadily. Everything was alright, Joel thought.

When the paramedics arrived, they told Joel to come with them. Even if Dario was unconscious, they needed someone to fill out paperwork and answer questions. Joel followed cautiously behind the paramedics as they brought Dario out to the ambulance. He didn’t want to eavesdrop. He didn’t want to hear anything too fatal through the medical jargon. He glanced over at Dario in the dim light of the ambulance. He looked a bit paler than before, but still peaceful.

_ He’s dead. He’s dead and it’s my fault for not being responsible. _ No one knew. The league didn’t know. The analysts didn’t know. Dario’s family back home in Croatia didn’t even know. What was Joel supposed to do? Wait and see? He felt lost as he was directed to an office to answer questions. This didn’t feel right.  _ Yeah, Dario hit his head during the game. He walked to my apartment but it took him an hour to get there and by the time he got there he was nearly frozen to death. He fell asleep around midnight. Yes, I told him to take a nap. I didn’t think it was that bad. Do you know if he’s okay yet? Can I go see him? _ As soon as Joel was alone, he got his phone out.

**JOEL** : Hey

**BEN** : … hey

**JOEL** : You’ll find out about this in like a couple hours tops but I just wanted to tell you

**JOEL** : Dario came over tonight

**JOEL** : he had a concussion but I didn’t rly think it was bad or anything and he fell asleep on my couch and wouldn’t wake up so he’s at the ER now

**JOEL** : I am also at ER

**JOEL** : idk what to even do I just needed to tell someone

**BEN** : well that’s absolutely awful

**BEN** : do you know anything yet like if he’ll get better???

**JOEL** : idk

**JOEL** : whole Suns FO knows

**JOEL** : Oubre told em

**BEN** : goodness

**BEN** : call me if you need anything I’m sure Dario will be fine

**BEN** : man’s head is made of steel

Joel almost laughed, but then remembered the brevity of the situation he was in. No one had thought to give him any sort of update. No one had come to check on him, either, after the questioning; Joel had no idea if he even still had to be in the hospital waiting room. Reluctantly, he checked twitter.

_ wojespn: Phoenix Suns power forward Dario Saric reportedly unresponsive following a scary head injury late in the 3rd quarter of Saturday night’s game in Philly, his agent tells ESPN. _

_ Shit, who had to tell Woj? _ Joel didn’t even bother looking at the replies. He shut his phone off and looked up, slightly dazed by how fast everything was happening, completely closed off from him. 

Hours passed. Joel spent most of it checking his phone and asking for updates. The doctors rarely wanted to update him. They said Dario was doing well, at least for being unconscious, that was good. He wasn’t dead. Joel didn’t kill him. The doctors said he needed surgery to relieve all of the pressure and swelling before they could try to stop the bleeding in his brain and figure out what was going on, or what exactly had been damaged. They said the pressure was building up over time, explaining why Dario was fine at first. It wasn’t Joel’s fault, they reassured him. No one could have known. He seemed fine, like he had a slight concussion or a bad migraine, up until the end. If Joel had let him sleep a full night on his sofa, he would have died. It was good that he called the paramedics when he did. Still, no updates. Joel felt like he was making excuses. 

As Joel was considering leaving, Ricky and Kelly finally showed up. Somehow, they didn’t even notice Joel, despite the fact that he was ridiculously hard to miss.

The receptionist told them that they couldn’t go back to visit yet. “We’re trading him first thing when we get home,” Kelly sighed as they turned to leave. Ricky said something unintelligible, and then they were gone. Joel knew what to do as he called an Uber and headed home.

Joel’s 2k avatar was still hovering on the screen when he got back to his apartment. He didn’t even bother turning the TV off, choosing to just go to sleep before sunrise.

That morning, Joel knew exactly what he had to do. He didn’t know if Dario had even woken up yet, but based on what he overheard the night before, he had to make a decision before it was too late.

Joel didn’t know if Dario was awake. He imagined that he would get to his hospital room and he’d be sitting there, feeling better, awake and alert, ready to go home, ready to talk about a trade. Joel felt confident of this as he approached the receptionist to ask if he could visit. As soon as he was given the ok, Joel began trekking through the halls of hospital rooms. He felt lost. He didn’t see the number for Dario’s room anywhere. He finally reached a floor with similar numbers after quite a while, but he still felt like he was in a maze — where was 3-407? The further Joel went, the more serious this all felt. The walls weren’t that welcoming wood panel anymore; they were white, sterile, serious. It was silent, too, barely a reassurance that everything was okay. Joel barely passed anyone in the silent halls. His footsteps echoed. 3-407.

3-407.

3-407.

The door was closed. Joel didn’t know what that meant, or if it meant anything at all. He gently pushed the door open and was met with silence. There were too many machines, all beeping and flickering in time, as soon as he walked in. He wanted to just turn around and go home at this point. But… This needed to happen. So, he continued into the room.

Joel shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Dario wasn’t awake. He somehow looked small in the bed, hooked up to a multitude of tubes and wires, somehow so different from just the night before. It looked like he was set up to be there long-term: there was a tube shoved down his throat, another one poking from his arm, a few more coming from who even knows where. It was worse than Joel, or anyone, for that matter, had thought the night before.  _ It was my fault for not taking him to the ER before it got this bad. I waited too long, I was stupid…  _

Joel didn’t want to look at Dario for too long. He felt bad, in a way, seeing him this vulnerable. He almost backed out of the room, afraid that he wasn’t supposed to be there. But still, he knew what he had to do.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” Joel said in a near-mumble as he pulled up a chair next to the bed, “but I’m going to call the GM and ask to bring you home, is that okay?”

Obviously, there was no response. Joel squeezed Dario’s hand, hoping for some affirmation. Still, nothing. So, he dialed the number for the Sixers front office.

“Hey, this is Joel… you know what happened with Dario last night?”

Joel looked back down at Dario, half hoping he knew what was going on, half hoping he didn’t. “Yeah, I overheard some stuff from some Suns players wanting him gone… and I was just thinking we could bring him home.”

“That’s a possibility. I’ll send an offer over to Phoenix by the end of the day.”

Joel grinned, “thank you. Thank you so much.” 

After finishing the conversation, he grabbed Dario’s hand again, squeezing a bit harder than intended, eliciting a small squirm from Dario. “Oh shit,” Joel laughed, “I’m sorry if that hurt. I think you’re coming home.” He smiled, hoping Dario could hear him.

For the rest of the day, Joel anxiously awaited news of the trade. Mikal Bridges of all people stopped by Joel’s apartment to drop off Dario’s stuff from the hotel before leaving to head back to Phoenix. He asked if Dario was getting any better, but Joel didn’t know what to say. If he turned the TV in the living room back on, the little 2k avatars would still be waiting. Luckily, Joel had to go to practice anyway, so he didn’t have to answer Mikal’s questions for too long. 

Joel spent the rest of the day thinking about the trade. He wondered which of his teammates would be sent to Arizona. There was a strange energy hovering over the practice facility, even though no one else knew about the proposed trade. Besides Ben knowing that Dario was with Joel, everyone else had only been reading the analyst updates online. Joel realized over the course of practice that Furkan seemed a bit distant.  _ Maybe I should talk to him. He did play for a while with Dario overseas… _ But, Joel didn’t. He couldn’t. He felt like he would break down sobbing if he did. 

Joel wanted nothing more than to speed back over the bridge and visit Dario again, waiting for the trade to be finalized, but there was a championship on the line at the end of all of this, and he wasn’t one to let his team down. So, he trudged through practice, bricking shot after shot, quiet, checking his phone a few too many times. There was a game the next day. He had completely forgotten.

That night, Joel still hadn’t heard anything about the trade. He listened to some Philly sports radio for the entire drive home. They talked about Dario, but didn’t mention the circumstances, much to Joel’s relief. There was still nothing about the trade. Joel got home from that awful traffic across the Delaware much too late to visit Dario, anyway, so any news he got he would have to tell him in the morning. Out of boredom, Joel finally checked his social media again, not wanting to see the incoming beratement from a myriad egg accounts.

_ wojespn: The Phoenix Suns and the Philadelphia 76ers have agreed to a trade that will land Dario Saric back to the 76ers, league sources tell ESPN. Mike Scott, Raul Neto and a 2023 second round pick will be headed to Phoenix. _

_ Holy shit. Trade finalized. They don’t tell me shit around here. _

Within minutes, Joel’s phone started blowing up. He frantically rushed to answer a call from Matisse.

“Joel. What the hell just happened?”

“I wish I knew,” Joel lied, half-feigning an exasperated laugh.

“Is Dario even— does he know?”

“I last visited him this morning, and he was still out cold. Who knows if he—”

“I think this is the first ever trade where someone’s in a coma when they’re traded.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

“And why would the Suns even agree to that? Holy shit, I've gotta get on Twitter.”

“I don’t think… I don’t know if they wanted to keep Dario around after last night.”

“I mean… it’s understandable. I’d be pissed if you were out palling around with J—”

“Oh god, enough about that guy.”

“Mike and Raul, man.”

“I kn—”

“Do you think I could come with you to visit Dario tomorrow, before the game, maybe? I feel like it’s only right that we all start showing up.”

“Yeah, Tisse, of course.”

“Alright, Jo. See you tomorrow, then.”

—

Once again, the next morning, Joel immediately got ready to go, skipping any and all game day routines to make sure he got to visit Dario. He sprinted up to room 3-407, knowing his way this time, confident. He nearly threw open the door, excited to tell Dario the news, even if he couldn’t hear it. However, there was already someone in there: a nurse, or something, checking on something or other. 

“Can I come in…?” Joel asked politely, trying to backtrack to before he busted the door open.

“Of course, just one moment… I’m just finishing cleaning him up…”

Joel waited until a signal to come in, and then slowly crept into the room. “Is he… is he doing better?”

“Well, he’s stable, and the swelling has gone down; we’re just not sure if the bleeding in his brain has stopped yet, but it won’t cause any major damage either way. He’s responding to some stimuli which is always a good thing, but he’s still not fully waking up.”

“I guess that’s good,” Joel smiled, just a little bit, looking back down at Dario. He still looked peaceful, almost the same as on Joel’s sofa. “You’re doing a great job taking care of him, I can see that…”

As soon as Joel was alone, he sat down next to Dario and grabbed his hand. “Hey. Can you hear me?” Joel didn’t even expect a response. “Ah, that was a stupid question…”

**TISSE** : be there in 5 min

Joel put his phone down, seeing that he didn’t have much time alone. “The trade was finalized. You’re coming home. You’re home.” 

Joel wanted a reaction. He wanted Dario to tense up or do another little wiggle like the day before, but… no reaction came this time. “You’re home, Dario. You get to stay.”

There was no way Dario would be playing any basketball for a while. Even if he woke up at that very moment, he still had some sort of brain injury. He had even just had surgery for pressure — he wouldn’t be playing basketball for a month or two, at least. It was a stupid trade on Philly’s part — Joel knew that. He knew he would start to see articles pop up about just how terrible of a trade it was on Philadelphia’s side — there would be speculation about whether it was just because they didn’t want to ship Dario back out to Phoenix after that night. 

Suddenly, the door popped open. Matisse crept into the room, frowning slightly when he saw the condition Dario was in. “Not great…” he sighed to himself.

“They said he’s doing alright,” Joel looked up from his phone, trying to reassure Matisse.

“That doesn’t look alright to me…” 

They sat in silence for a while, trying to comfort each other but not knowing what to say. Dario still wouldn’t respond to anything but a hand squeeze that hurt a bit too much. Either way, there was a game that night, and Joel knew exactly what he had to do to prove that the trade wasn’t as bad as it seemed.


	3. i've wasted so much time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting tired  
> Standing here  
> Waiting for someone to appear  
> I've made mistakes  
> And now I’m fine  
> I’ve wasted so much time

The city of Philadelphia was angry. Joel could feel it in every moment of the game that night. He had started to see the analyst takes come in, anyway, and they were exactly what he expected them to be. But either way, Joel couldn’t focus on what was being said. Dario was still in the hospital, unconscious. 

With every day that passed, everything seemed to get worse. In a way, “he’s never waking up” became the new “he’s never coming over.” Between practice and road games, Joel barely had time to visit Dario. Time was passing. The Sixers were losing. No one knew what to say. The trade might have been a bad idea. Even Joel was quite sure that Dario would never be able to play basketball professionally ever again, and that probability only decreased the longer he was out. 

“He’s losing muscle,” one twitter user spoke into the void that was Joel’s mentions, “you lose 2% of your muscle mass every day that you’re completely immobile.”

“He’s done,” another said, “no one recovers from something like that and goes back to being a pro athlete.”

_ He’s fucked. It’s the worst trade in the history of Philadelphia sports. _

It was only day four. Joel almost considered responding to those stupid egg accounts. They had all seen Dario on his Instagram story that night and heard he was unconscious the next morning. There was nothing Joel could hide. 

Joel still tried to visit as much as he could. He brought Ben with him one time. Matisse came a couple more times. He thought about bringing Furkan but didn’t want to upset him any more. There was a strange energy looming over every practice, every game, every postgame meeting in the locker room, every press conference. Everyone on the team wanted answers. Every news site in Philly wanted to know why the front office would make that trade. They seemed to taunt Joel with the claim that it was all his fault. Dario would never wake up because Joel was being a shit friend that night. 

Either way, it started out as a head injury, and Joel knew he would rather be the one visiting Dario than whichever Phoenix Sun wanted to fly out every week. But still, it was only day four. There was no every week yet.

On day six, there was a game. Wells Fargo Center. The fortress. The fans weren’t as angry this time. They had grown to accept the situation, or had forgotten about it. Shake spent a few minutes before the game pinning Dario’s jersey, a classic number nine graciously given up by Kyle O’Quinn, to the bench. It served as a constant reminder. 

The game was going well, but that slightly ominous feeling was still unshakeable. No matter how many threes were made, no matter if there was a Frosty Freezeout or not, Dario was alone, unconscious.

Halfway through the game, that changed. Someone in the media tunnel had been notified that Dario had woken up. They didn’t know if he was alert, or minimally conscious, or somewhere in between, but his eyes were open. 

Joel dropped 52 that night. Career high. He didn’t stop to be excited, or proud of himself. He couldn’t. He rushed through his postgame interviews. He scrambled to gather his belongings from the locker room and immediately went to call an Uber. As he was leaving, Shake ran up to him, Dario’s jersey in hand. Although Joel didn’t tell anyone, they all knew where he was going.

3-407.

The lights were off when Joel crept into the room. Dario’s heart monitor started beeping faster and faster when he heard the door open. 

“Shhh, calm down…” Joel laughed as the door closed, leaving them in darkness. As Joel’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw Dario amidst all the beeping machines, staring up at him, eyes wide in the moonlight. “Do you… do you know what happened?”

Dario was still silent, eyes focused on Joel. “Can you talk?”

Dario moved his shoulder in a slight shrug, still looking up intently.

“Ah, okay, well… You’re in Philly… and you get to stay.”

Joel heard frantic beeping from the heart monitor behind him. “Relax, relax… wait—” Joel held up the jersey Shake had given him before he left.

Dario reached up for the jersey with all of his strength, having a hard time believing that any of this was real and not just a coma-induced fever dream.

Joel hesitated, but put the jersey in Dario’s hand, not wanting him to overexert himself. He still looked small in the bed. He looked somehow smaller than he did six days before. He looked like that scared, skinny boy from the Euroleague on their first day of practice four years ago. 

“Don’t worry about anything back in Phoenix. I’ll go out to pack up your apartment if you can’t, alright?” Joel tried to reassure Dario, hoping he was thinking the same thing. He knew he wasn’t. Why would Dario be thinking about his old apartment when he was still faced nearly with life or death? No one knew the extent of his head injury yet. “Did they say when you’ll be able to talk again…?”

Dario opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but his throat was still too sore from the tube being taken out earlier that day. “Mmh…” he managed, trying to just say anything. 

“Ah, okay… it must suck to have all of those tubes in, yeah?” Joel tried to make conversation, wanting to fill the empty space in the room.

Dario nodded, slowly, his head still feeling like a slushee. He felt dizzy, still, disconnected from his body. Joel could tell he was still dazed. 

“They’re taking good care of you. They’ve got you on oxygen and everything. I’m so glad you’re alright, man… you had me scared. I think you might have had the whole city scared,” Joel tried to reassure him, slightly suspicious of the meaning behind Dario’s unwavering eye contact. 

Dario was still gripping the jersey with every ounce of strength he had, eyes focused on Joel, just trying to keep breathing. He didn’t know why everything took so much energy, or why he couldn’t speak, or why everything Joel was telling him floated by without an ounce of comprehension. Above all, he was confused, but he felt comforted by another human presence. He just nodded along, happy Joel was there, happy he wasn’t alone in Phoenix… or was he?

The hospital staff answered all of the important questions earlier that day without Dario having to ask. He just sat there, like a floppy crash test dummy, sedated, paralyzed, almost embarrassed as he was cleaned up and poked at for what felt like hours on end. Somehow, even though he would usually feel terrible for being so helpless, he didn’t mind. 

_ How long was I out for? _

Six days.

_ Does my family know? _

They were alerted but couldn’t make it over here to visit.

_ Do I get to go home? _

That’s kind of a long story…

Dario focused back on Joel, lit up by the moonlight. He had a question. One only he could answer. He needed to get it out.  _ Shit, this is taking too long. _ “The trade…?” He whispered, voice raw, throat screaming at him to stop.

“Yeah, you were traded back to Philly on Saturday night, right after it all went down,” Joel laughed, finally sitting down in the little chair next to the bed. “You get to stay. Seriously, don’t worry about anything. We need a shooter like you, anyway…”

Not getting any less tired, Dario managed a tiny side smirk and wiggled a little. He was home, or at least he was physically in Philadelphia. Or so he was told. He felt like he was floating, still. He saw shapes on the wall in the darkness and couldn’t tell if they were real or not, or what they wanted from him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t feel his body. Even his hand gripping the jersey was never gripping it at all, just limp, the jersey balled up in it as if he was going to hold it. He looked back up at Joel.

“You’ll be alright… stop looking so scared, you made it!” Joel laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. But still, Dario was scared, confused… he wanted to feel better. He couldn’t feel anything at all. Not even his best friend could comfort him.

_ When do I get to go home? Can I go home? Can I at least look out the window or something? I want to see the skyline… I want to make sure it’s real… Has it really been six days? What happened? Why can’t I feel anything? _

“Shh, hey, don’t be so scared, please…” Joel heard the heart monitor beeping faster behind him, “you made it through the scary part. You can only get better from here.”

Dario nodded, slowly, eyes focused on the ceiling. 

He didn’t know when Joel left that night, but he knew he was alone for most of it. Occasionally someone would come to check on him, fix something, clean something up, explain something… but… Dario wanted to ask questions. He wanted answers. He wanted some form of comfort.

_ Just sleep. _

So, he slept.

Over the next few days, things started to look up. Dario could speak again, finally, although everything he said sounded slightly clumsy, just a bit slurred, jumbled. He steadily missed when he tried reaching for items in front of him, and could barely take a step without toppling over. Shit, he could barely even sit up. The white walls of the hospital room warped and spun ceaselessly. Dario just wanted to go home, wherever that was. He wanted to play basketball again, but he couldn’t get past the feeling that the world was being flipped upside down and back up again. 

Most of Dario’s time at the hospital was boring, spent on little exercises to try to get him to be able to feel again, tiny improvements when he could manage to grab something or take a step without crashing to the floor in a jumbled pile of limbs. Some media representative visited one day, asking if he was even going to stay in the league. Dario didn’t tell them much, making an effort to leave out the fact that he couldn’t walk on his own, let alone hold himself up, and could barely even hold an item without dropping it. There was no way he would be anywhere near a basketball court anytime soon, even despite all of that — his brain still felt like a slushee. Everything hurt when the lights were on, or when there were more than a couple things or people making noise around him. But… the league wanted to know. 

“I’m getting better,” Dario told them, slowly, trying to sound as coherent as possible, “I’ll get back on the court when I can.” He kept it vague on purpose. No one needed to know the full extent of what happened. He just wanted to go home, wherever that was going to be. He wouldn’t even see Joel for a few days, or any of his friends for that matter. The Sixers were on a road trip, out in California, losing terribly. Dario watched every game on the little TV in his room, or at least listened to them, eyes closed, imagining his friends dominating the court. 

Every day was more or less exactly the same. Dario knew he was getting better — more tubes were being taken out, for starters. He was given more time to himself rather than constantly being checked on. He felt less like a slushee, sometimes, when he was just laying in the hospital bed, not trying to move or make anything happen. He was getting texts from all over the place — he could barely read them, as everything was still swirling and spinning. At the end of every day, someone from the hospital staff would come in and read all of them, given that the texts were at least in English.

**JOEL** : I figured I’d ask

**JOEL** : since you can’t really do much for yourself

**JOEL** : do you think you’d want to stay in my guest room

**JOEL** : until you get your own place or can get around on your own again at least

“Yeah, say yes to that one.”

Unofficial plans. It felt like middle school. Nothing felt real, despite happening right in front of him. Dario’s decisions were still being made for him, but he knew he wanted to live with his best friend, and he was going to. He just had to make it out of this hospital alive. He had to be able to walk to the door. He had to use his hands again, successfully, complete little tasks so no one would have to help him. But for now, even the ceiling spun in circles, swirls of off-white tiles, spacebound, and all he wanted to do was to go home.

The world was still spinning a week later when Joel picked Dario up to bring him home. It took ages just to get out to the parking lot — Dario had been given crutches to help with his balance but was still stumbling, nearly crumpling to the floor, almost crashing into walls. The only reassurance was Joel’s hand on his back, steadying him, stopping him, sitting him down when he needed a break. 

Dario finally saw the Philly skyline again on the drive to Joel’s apartment, although looking out the window at the bright, overcast sky for too long made his eyes hurt. No matter how much it hurt, though, he was home.  _ Somehow _ . Somehow, this was going to be home now.  _ Sure, that’s fine. Somewhat unconventional way of getting what I want, but…  _ Dario laughed softly to himself, half-watching the buildings pass by. 

Joel basically carried him up the stairs to his apartment. “Welcome home, I guess?” He laughed, setting Dario down on the sofa. “... Do you think you can get to your room by yourself? I’ve got everything set up that Mikal gave me last week, plus the FO got you some swag and whatnot…”

Dario looked up at Joel and shook his head cautiously.  _ Shit, I can’t get up. I can’t tell him. Shit. This is bad.  _

“Hey, it’s alright if you can’t,” Joel sighed, “I’m here to help you, yeah?” 

All of the sudden, Dario realized he had a long way to go. Longer than he ever thought he would. This wasn’t how he planned to return to Philadelphia. But shit, a return is a return. A comeback is a comeback. A revenge tour is a revenge tour. And Dario was going to make sure it would happen. 


	4. softer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can you love something  
> And know you're not trying?  
> It feels like a waste of space  
> And I'm through with lying

Joel’s guest room was cozy enough. Dario woke up every morning facing the Philly skyline, and unless he had something pressing to do, he spent most of the day staring at it. Eyes vacant. It had been four days. Dario didn’t get up much unless it was for some scheduled physical therapy, every day at 4 PM. Little things like holding objects and trying to walk to the door of his bedroom. Dario was a mess. He knew it. Joel knew it. The doctors knew it. He barely ate because of how disoriented he felt. He hadn’t even showered since he came home. He was gross. He didn’t feel like being gross anymore, but there was basically nothing he could do about it.

“Do you want to eat breakfast… er… lunch?” Joel crept into Dario’s room, not wanting to startle him. He was facing the window, as always, staring. 

Dario looked up at Joel but didn’t respond, too tired to make an effort.

“I’ll make you toast, yeah? Maybe try sitting up?”

Dario gave Joel a small nod, but didn’t even start to move. He stayed facing the window, watching the city. Joel sighed and left the room, hoping to make a toast so good it would shake Dario from whatever this haze was.

Joel returned a few minutes later with a modest breakfast — just some lightly buttered toast and a glass of water. He found that Dario still hadn’t moved, facing the window, eyes glazed over. Joel sighed and put the breakfast down on the nightstand next to the bed.

“... I asked you to sit up, yeah?”

Dario nodded again.

“Could you try?”

Dario shifted a tiny bit, wiggling slightly, not doing much to sit himself up. He looked up at Joel, almost pleadingly.

“... Alright. I’ll help. But next time you have to do it by yourself…”

Once Dario was sat up, Joel handed him the plate of toast. “Eat up, bud. I hope you like it.”

“Thanks,” Dario mumbled, looking down at the toast.

“... You gonna eat it?”

Dario stayed silent. He didn’t want Joel to see him barely be able to pick up the piece of toast. His hands still barely worked. He knew what to do, but somewhere along the way, it felt like his hands forgot their programming. It would be so easy, so easy… But, in whatever new reality he was facing, Dario knew it would take ages to eat his breakfast. He’d probably finish up by lunch.

“Y’know, I think we should get started on those little exercises they gave you before your appointment…” Joel remarked, watching Dario reach for the toast over and over again, never quite getting it right.

“... I just wanna eat breakfast…” Dario slurred out, wishing his speech hadn’t been affected by his injury.  _ It is what it is, I guess. I should just be glad I’m alive. _

“Alright, well… We can work on that later, then. I have a game tonight, so I think you’ll be alone when the physical therapist visits… So… You’re really going to have to try. Really hard.”

“I’m trying…” Dario said softly, finally looking back up at Joel as he munched on his toast.

“You’ll have to try even harder. I know you have it in you.”

“This is good toast,” Dario tried to change the subject, not wanting to end up disappointing Joel even more.

“Yeah… thanks,” Joel smiled. “You want to go take a shower now, maybe?”

“Maybe…” Dario hadn’t tried since he came home. He had barely even gotten out of bed over the past four days.

“It’s an excuse to get up,” Joel tried to reassure him.

“Yeah…” Dario sighed. Just being able to walk all the way to the bathroom was a challenge. As soon as he started moving, the walls started warping, the floor started swaying… “But I don’t know if I can get up.”

“You can try,” Joel suggested, trying to encourage him just the tiniest bit. 

Dario wiggled a little, considering his options, thinking about how much it would take to get there, let alone take a whole shower. He could barely pick up a piece of toast, let alone use his hands that much…

“Alright, well… I have to go. I have to get ready for the game tonight. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Dario nodded in response, too tired to do much else.

“Please try to get up for me,” Joel said softly as he left the room.

—

Dario couldn’t watch the game, but he could listen to it. The physical therapist who came to help him was kind enough to put it on in the other room. Dario listened to the whole game. Every call. Every whistle. Every squeak of a sneaker on hardwood. He couldn’t get up to turn off the TV in the other room, so he even listened to the postgame interviews.

**How do you feel about the team’s decision to trade for Dario Saric despite his potentially career ending injuries?**

_ I feel great about it. He’s a good guy. I’m hoping to see him back on the court in some capacity if or whenever he’s ready. _

In the darkness, the light from the TV was blinding, even when softened from the other room. Dario thought about how he felt. He didn’t know if he would ever get back out there. It was somewhat reassuring to hear his friends’ words, but Dario wanted them to stop talking about him. He wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening. 

**Do you think the city is supportive of this decision?**

_ I don’t care about the city’s opinion. They can say whatever they want. Every game I play, every point I score, that’s for Dario. That’s for supporting him getting better, no matter if that’s getting back to the starting roster or just making it out of bed.  _

Dario looked to the window, gazing at the tiny lights of the city, watching them blur and swirl in his still distorted vision. Joel would be home soon enough. And no matter what, Dario was home, too. 

The front door of the apartment clicked open about an hour later. Dario was somewhere between staring out the window and falling asleep. Joel came in to check on him, but Dario pretended he was asleep so he wouldn’t have to talk. Soon enough, he had fallen asleep for real. Joel left him a grilled cheese on the nightstand anyway.

—

“You up?” Joel crept into Dario’s room to find him in basically the same state he left him in, grilled cheese left untouched overnight. Dario didn’t answer. Joel sighed and sat on the end of the bed, just wanting to be acknowledged. “I was thinking we could do something today… something small, if you’re up for it.”

Dario wiggled and turned the slightest bit to look at Joel. As if on command, the room started spinning around him. He somehow almost lost his balance, despite barely moving.

“I have to go to IKEA for some things, like, kitchen organizers and stuff… I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

Dario thought about it.  _ No. No one can see me like this. That’s just stupid. The whole league wants to know how I’m doing and if they see that I can barely even hold myself up… _ he stayed silent, staring up at Joel.

“They have these cute shark plushies. I think you would like them.”

_ But if I go… I’ll get out of here for a minute. I’ll see things. Shit, will I even be able to get up? Will I have to go on one of those scooter things? That looks real fucking good for the Sixers, doesn’t it… _

“I don’t really want to go by myself, is all.”

“Joel, I don’t…” Dario sighed, trying to catch where his thoughts were going, “I think we should start smaller.”

“Oh. Yeah, we probably should.”

“Like, just getting outside first…”

“That sounds like a plan,” Joel smiled, “well, I still have to go to IKEA, so we can try that when I get back, alright?”

Dario nodded and watched as Joel left the room. Suddenly, he felt motivated again. A switch had flipped, somewhere. He wanted to get up. He wanted to show Joel that he could get better.  _ Let’s go throw out this old grilled cheese and get a snack. _

Dario sat up and ignored the ringing, spinning feeling in his head. He reached for the plate of grilled cheese and eventually managed to pick it up. He tried to be careful, but as soon as he stood up he lost his balance and crashed into the wall.  _ Shit _ . Dario steadied himself and started trekking off to the kitchen. He moved slowly. It took a while to take a step after the last one. He barely knew which direction he was going in anymore. The apartment seemed to spin around him. The floor felt uneven despite being perfectly flat. Dario’s hands were trembling as he held onto the plate of grilled cheese with every ounce of strength he had. 

And then, finally, Dario reached the kitchen. He was too dizzy to look for the garbage can, so he left the old grilled cheese out on the counter.  _ Snacks? _ Dario looked around, but was too dizzy to look for snacks, too.  _ Shit, where’s the wall? _ He didn’t know which direction to go in, but stumbled off blindly anyway. He crashed into the wall again, but couldn’t steady himself this time, and crumpled into a pile of spindly limbs on the floor. 

Dario thought about crawling back to his room like a pathetic worm left out on the pavement after a rainstorm, but decided it would be too much effort. Joel would find him when he got home, and hopefully put him back in his bed without any judgement.  _ Hopefully. _


	5. what once was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby, I've been there before  
> I was at the point where all I really wanted was someone  
> And now I'm still hangin' on  
> I was at the end of every tether waitin' for what once was

Dario couldn’t really estimate how long he was waiting on the floor for Joel to come home and bring him back to his room, but he fell asleep at some point, and woke up back in his bed. He looked up to see Joel sitting next to him, waiting patiently.

“You took a little trek to the kitchen?”

Dario nodded, “sorry I couldn’t throw out the grilled cheese…”

“That’s fine,” Joel laughed softly, “did you eat anything?”

“No, but…”

“I’ll make you lunch, don’t worry about it.”

Dario stayed silent, starting to feel tired out already from his little journey across the apartment. He didn’t want Joel to do anything else for him. 

“I got you something at IKEA, actually,” Joel grinned and got up from the bed, “I’ll go get it for you.”

After a few minutes of waiting, Joel came back with a shark plushie. “It’s goofy, I know, but… I thought it would help you feel better.”

Dario grabbed the shark plushie from Joel and hugged it. Joel hadn’t seen him that happy since… years ago. Maybe the 2018 playoffs. Maybe before then, even. 

“Well, I’m glad you like it,” Joel laughed, “you want lunch now?”

Dario nodded, a bit hesitant. He just wanted to sleep, but he knew he couldn’t justify a nap. Joel looked eager to make him lunch, anyway.

“Do you want to wait here, or… Maybe come with me to the kitchen?”

“... I’ll wait…”

“Yeah, you must be tired,” Joel sighed as he got up to go to the kitchen, “I’ll be right back.”

Dario hugged the shark plushie and flopped down into the blankets. He squeezed the shark plushie as the room began to spin around him. Nothing could ground him. He couldn’t even open his eyes.  _ Just weeks ago, you were a top tier athlete, and now you can’t even sit up… just fucking pathetic. _ Dario stayed there, face down, not wanting to move ever again. When he was absolutely still, the spinning subsided into swaying, like a boat on a nice day. But shit, Dario wanted to be back on land more than anything. 

And then, he heard the door of his room open. He had to sit back up, but couldn’t. All of his energy had been knocked out, somehow. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to leave you here alone when I have away games,” Joel sighed. He rubbed gentle circles on Dario’s back until he started sitting up. 

“Could I come…?”

“I’m not sure, dude. Maybe to New York or DC, if we drive. Are you even cleared to go on a plane yet?”

“No idea.”

“Either way…” Joel slid Dario an avocado sandwich, “eat up, bud.”

Dario felt better about Joel being there that day. He wasn’t as embarrassed or anxious to try to use his broken hands. Joel didn’t judge, anyway. He never did. He barely even reassured him. He didn’t give any condescending praise like the doctors and physical therapists did. But still, Joel sat there, listening, almost ignoring.

“Do you want to go sit in the living room when you’re done? I’m going to wash the sheets, if you’re up for it. They’re getting kinda… icky, I guess.”

“Maybe…”

“Or you could shower, or something. It’s been a while.”

Dario nodded, a bit defeated. “Yeah, I’ll shower, but…” He wanted to do things for himself. He wanted to get better.  _ What, it’s January now? They’re gonna need me for the playoffs… I have to get better… _

“I’ll help you. Don’t worry about it.” 

But.. Dario was worried. He didn’t want Joel to see him like this anymore. He didn’t want him to lose hope that he would ever be back on the court. Either way, Dario guessed that it was too late to make any sort of new impression. Joel has seen him with tubes shoved down his throat, anyway, and he made the very toast he struggled to pick up with his broken hands. He had scooped him up off the floor when he had passed out after trying to trek to the kitchen and back. He had seen it all, basically. 

“... Can you help? It’s… it’s all spinning again.”

“Yeah, of course,” Joel wrapped his arms around Dario and pulled him up.

“I don’t want to have to keep asking for help…”

“It’s okay, dude, it’s what you need right now.”

Dario sighed, focusing on taking tiny steps to get to the bathroom without getting too dizzy.

“You were nearly dead, like, not even three weeks ago.”

“I know… but…”

“You don’t have to have an excuse; it’s okay.”

Dario nodded, quiet, too distracted to think of a response. He held onto Joel’s arm as he kept wobbling. It didn’t make sense. He should have been fine. He knew what to do, and how to keep going, but his body just wouldn’t allow it. With every step, Dario fought crumpling to the floor like a paper bag. 

Joel had a way of making everything quick and painless. He left to wash the sheets as soon as Dario was settled in a warm bath. They both knew he wasn’t really steady enough to shower yet, so that would be fine for now. Joel came back to find Dario half asleep, his head resting against the side of the bathtub. 

“Aw, bud,” Joel sighed as he knelt down, “I told you to get started while I was gone.”

“Sorry…” Dario opened his eyes and lightly tapped a shampoo bottle sitting on the ledge. “I can’t…”

“Ah, it’s alright. I’ll help.” 

“You don’t…”

“Shh, relax.”

Dario nodded, silent, willing himself to just be vulnerable and accept help for once. He liked feeling Joel’s hands in his hair, somehow. He liked being cared for, as much as he hated to admit it. He had always felt better when he was the center of attention, anyway, as much as he hated being there. And now, there he was. On the minds of basically everyone in the Philadelphia area.

“Do they… do they know how I’m doing?” Dario asked, quiet, not wanting to bother Joel.

“They?”

“Like… the team…”

“Uh, I haven’t really said much to anyone. I’m not sure if anyone really knows what’s going on outside of the medical staff and maybe the front office.”

“Do you think… would they be upset if they knew?”

“Yeah, well, everyone misses you. We pin your jersey to the bench during games; I don’t know if you’ve seen it…”

“I want to go to practice soon.”

“You will,” Joel encouraged him softly, “you’ll get there.”

“Might take a while.”

“Well, yeah, but… once you can get out of the apartment you could just do your physical therapy appointments at the practice facility.”

“Guess so.”

Soon enough, Dario had wobbled back to his bed, with freshly washed sheets and one of Joel’s hoodies to curl up in. Something bothered Joel about how flat out relieved Dario seemed to be when he finally got back to curling up in the blankets, facing the window. It wasn’t how he knew Dario, whatsoever, barely having the motivation to even sit up.

“Something’s up,” Joel sighed, approaching the side of the bed. “What’s wrong?”

Dario stayed silent, watching the city, eyes glazed over.

“Come on, you can talk to me.”

“Do you think… could you… could you stay?”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Please don’t leave.”

“I can, yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Joel smiled and gently rubbed a circle on Dario’s back, “you want your shark plush?”

Dario nodded, “yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course, homie. Rest up.”

Joel sat with Dario as he slept, again, for most of the rest of the day. He woke up for his physical therapy appointment, spending an hour walking out to the front door of the apartment and doing hand exercises. It was getting repetitive, and  _ boring _ . And Dario felt like he wasn’t even making any progress, despite how often he was reassured that he was taking baby steps towards recovery. He had finally reached his goal of making it to the front door, but it still felt like nothing had been accomplished. It felt better to not be alone all day, though, but Dario knew that any days off from practice or games were rarities. So he savored every moment of Joel sitting next to him, watching as he played games on his phone for hours on end, until he fell asleep.

Dario woke up the next morning to Joel already sitting with him. He wondered if he had ever even left or slept at all.

“Feeling less dizzy, bud?”

“Little bit,” Dario responded, groggy. He was always a bit more aware of how slurred and jumbled his speech was in the morning, as if he wasn’t used to it or had forgotten about his injury overnight. 

“Seems it,” Joel smiled, “and I can see why you like looking out the window so much now.”

“Yeah, it’s… it’s pretty.”

Joel laughed. The conversation faded out. Dario wanted to know why he didn’t feel alone that night.

“Did you stay all night?”

“... I did, yeah. Couldn’t just leave you after you begged me to stay like that. I slept well, though. It’s quite cozy in here.”

Dario smiled, softly, almost trying to hide it from Joel. He stayed quiet, not sure how to respond. His brain still felt like a slushee. 

“Ben’s coming over today after practice,” Joel mentioned casually.

“Sounds fun.”

“And then we have our next away game tomorrow…”

Dario nodded. He didn’t want to stay home alone. What if something … happened? What if he crumpled to the floor again? What if Joel had to find him like that after however many days he would be away?

“I think we’re sending the G League guys to come check on you.”

“That’s good, but…” the last thing Dario wanted was to embarrass himself. It was bad enough having Joel help him with everything. He knew it would be absolutely pathetic if someone he barely even knew had to scoop him up off the floor or help him get changed or clean up after him. 

“You’ll be able to come soon,” Joel reassured him. “Just have to get out of this apartment.”

“Mhm,” Dario agreed softly, half-determined to make it to his next goal. But he knew he couldn’t do it alone, so it would have to wait a few days.

———

It was nice to see Ben, finally. Joel had helped Dario get out to the sofa so he could hang out with them. Dario sat quietly the whole time as they played video games and talked about some petty drama at the practice facility. Ben asked a few questions, but didn’t prod much.

“Are you happy to be back in Philly?” Ben asked, alone with Dario for a moment as Joel went to refill the Cheez-It bowl.

“Yeah, I am,” Dario grinned, “would be better if I could actually get out to see the city, though.”

“I can’t wait until you can come to practice, Homie. Really. We all miss you.”

“I know… I’m getting there.”

“You seem like you’re doing well,” Ben half-lied. Dario could hold a conversation, and hold himself up for that matter, but something was… off. He was pale, and he seemed to look through things rather than at them. His hand were shoved into his hoodie pocket, still broken, twitching on their own. In all honesty, it was hard to get used to him. “I mean, at least you’re doing well for just getting out of the hospital and all.”

“Yeah,” Dario agreed, “where’s your road trip tomorrow?” He hoped he could convince Joel to let him tag along and just wait in a hotel room somewhere.

“Atlanta.”

“Oh.”

Joel came back a few minutes later with a fresh bowl of Cheez-Its. Dario considered reaching in for a handful, but decided against it. 

Soon enough, after many rounds of 2k and a few shit talk sessions about old teammates, Ben went home to start packing. Joel kept Dario on the sofa instead of taking him back to his room as he tried to figure out what to do with him for the next few days.

“I guess I’ll leave some snacks and stuff by your bed in case you get hungry…” Joel thought aloud as he opened the freezer, “you like Uncrustables?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Alright, bud,” Joel laughed, setting some in a cooler. 

“Do you know who’s coming to check on me?”

“Looks like it’ll be Shake and Norv.”

Dario nodded and shifted, slightly, wanting to join Joel in the kitchen but not knowing exactly how. He got up from the sofa, slowly, and staggered off towards the kitchen counter, catching himself just before crashing into it. Joel looked up, concerned, but then returned to fitting ice packs in the cooler.

“I’ll leave you some drinks, too.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m sorry you can’t come yet, bud.”

“It’s… it’s alright. I’ll get there.”

———

Soon enough, Joel was sitting with Dario as he tried to fall asleep.

“You’ll be home…”

“Monday. Day after tomorrow.”

“That’s…”

“It’s just one night by yourself. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah. Just one night.”

“I missed you,” Joel sighed, “and I’m going to miss you.”

“I might… I might miss you even more,” Dario whispered, barely keeping his eyes open, focusing somewhere between Joel and the night sky.

“You might.”

With that, Dario fell asleep, somehow, pathetically, terrified of the next day. 


	6. all my friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan  
> And the next five years trying to be with your friends again  
> Oh, you're talking forty-five turns just as fast as you can  
> Yeah, I know it gets tired, but it's better when we pretend

Joel left early the next morning, barely even stopping to say goodbye to Dario for the next two days. He felt bad about leaving him, but there was no other option. He had to. Dario couldn’t even get out of the apartment yet. He was still dizzy, stumbling, disoriented.

Dario didn’t do much until Shake and Norvel arrived. He thought about eating something for lunch, but was too tired to even open any of the snacks Joel left for him. Soon enough, there was a knock at the door. Dario barely knew what time it was. He was still wearing Joel’s hoodie from the day before. But shit, he still had to answer the door before anyone got worried.

**NORV** : hey we’re here!!

**NORV** : dariooooo come on

Dario got up, nearly crashed into the wall, grabbed his crutches so he wouldn’t end up in a pile on the floor again, and stumbled off into the hallway. He fumbled with the doorknob as he tried to unlock the door, the world spinning around him.  _ I thought Joel would have thought to leave it unlocked… _ Dario sighed as he finally turned the knob and welcomed Shake and Norvel into the apartment.

“Glad to see you’re doing alright,” Norvel smiled, trying his best to figure out exactly what to do in this situation.

Dario wobbled slightly. He wouldn’t last on his feet much longer. “There’s Cheezits in the cabinet if you want some,” he suggested as he staggered to the sofa.

After a few minutes, Dario could tell Shake and Norvel were uncomfortable. He was uncomfortable too. It wasn’t his apartment. He couldn’t host. Shit, he was too dizzy to host either way. He swore nothing he said was making sense.

“Do you want to, like, do something…?” Shake asked, trying to relieve some tension.

“Maybe we could have a little watch party,” Norvel suggested, “like, order in some dinner and watch the game.”

Dario nodded in agreement, too disoriented to really make a decision.

“I get a discount on Shake Shack,” Shake added, nonchalant, as if that wasn’t a big deal.

“Yeah?” Norvel laughed.

“Yeah, they gave me a deal after that game vs the Clippers,” Shake shrugged, “but the closest one is pretty far away from here, I think. I don’t know if they have DoorDash or whatever.”

“We could go on a little road trip,” Norvel suggested, “Dario, you in?”

Dario hesitated for a moment. He hadn’t left the apartment since Joel originally brought him home. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Awesome,” Norvel grinned.

“I found the closest Shake Shack, but it’s, like, a half hour away…” Shake held up his phone, “so we should probably get going soon. And maybe we could stop and get some snacks too…”

Soon enough, a plan was made. Dario threw on a puffy jacket that had been shipped over from his apartment in Phoenix. He followed Shake and Norvel out of the apartment, stumbling in the hallway, nearly losing his balance as they trekked out to Shake’s car. “Shit, dude,” Norvel grabbed Dario’s arm to stop him from toppling over, “don’t want you getting hurt again.”

It felt refreshing to finally be outside again. Dario had forgotten how cold Philly winters were, though, and waiting for Norvel to unstrap his hands from his crutches felt like it was taking forever. Eventually, though, he climbed into the backseat of Shake’s car. 

Dario was glad to have a ground view of the city again, looking at the lights as if they were stars hovering over him as they glimmered in the darkening sky. “You think it might start snowing?” Shake asked Norvel.

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

**JOEL** : How’s your day?

**JOEL** : Game time in a couple hours

**JOEL** : Pinning your jersey to the bench again btw

**JOEL** : We miss you!!

Dario wasn’t even sure how to respond to his texts. He felt relieved just to be a part of the living world again, as tiring and as complex as it was. His hands still hurt. He couldn’t really type all that well. It took a while. He had to text Joel back, though. This was a start. This was something. He was still so dizzy. Shake’s car felt more like a rocking boat at sea than anything else.

“Ah, it’s snowing. I was right,” Shake laughed.

Just a few tiny flakes. Dario thought about Joel’s flight home the next day. He wondered when he would come home, what time, if he would be proud of him for getting up or for eating or showering or  _ anything _ . Dario didn’t want to live on praise, but he felt like he had to lately.

**DARIO** : good

**DARIO** : we’re gonna watch game

**JOEL** : Have fun!!

**JOEL** : Don’t stay up too late

**JOEL** : You need to rest

**DARIO** : I know

**DARIO** : good luck

**DARIO** : see u tomorrow

Dario put his phone down and stared out the window again. He wondered if they were anywhere close to Shake Shack. He wondered what they even had at Shake Shack. It kind of was more of a request from Shake than a suggestion, anyway.

He wanted to ask Joel when he would be home the next day. He was already starting to get nervous about staying in the apartment by himself all night. He could ask Shake and Norvel to stay, but… he didn’t know them well enough to ask. So, he just stared out the window of Shake’s car, trying to fend off the oncoming motion sickness. 

And then, they pulled into the Shake Shack parking lot. 

“You coming?” Shake asked Dario, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Can I… can I just wait?”

“Uh…”

“I just… don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s understandable, okay, alright, what do you want?”

“... Chicken nuggets?”

“Yeah, sure, dude. Weird pick, but I still have that discount. Be back in a few,” Shake laughed as he ran to catch up with Norvel, who was already inside. 

Once they were out of sight, Dario pressed his forehead against the headrest of the seat in front of him. He felt sick. Everything was spinning. He hadn’t done that much in… weeks. Since probably before anything even happened. 

**SHAKE** : want a shake?

**SHAKE** : literally free with my discount haha

**SHAKE** : answer quick

**DARIO** : sure

**SHAKE** : flavor?

**DARIO** : idk regular?

**SHAKE** : it’s a milkshake man

**SHAKE** : do they not have those where you’re from

**SHAKE** : fine I’m getting you a black + white lol

Soon enough, Shake and Norvel came back to the car, and they set off for the nearest Wawa in search of some snacks for the game. Dario stayed behind, still feeling sick, still not wanting anyone in the store to see him. He knew he looked skinny and lanky and awful. He knew he had dark circles under his eyes even though he slept for most of every day. His friends probably barely even wanted to look at him. He wondered how Joel felt having to see him every day. He knew something was missing. He wasn’t the same person he was two years ago, or even just three weeks ago, for that matter. 

Dario wanted Joel to come home. He missed him, already, somehow. But… he couldn’t tell him that. He couldn’t let anyone know. So he just sat in silence in Shake’s car until they finally got back to the apartment.

Shake and Norvel got the watch party ready as Dario staggered to his room and flopped onto his bed. They told him to put on his jersey, but he didn’t have the energy. Joel’s hoodie was too cozy, anyway, and Dario was tired from walking more than he had in weeks.  _ Not even a month ago you were a top tier athlete. You’re fucking pathetic. Get up. You walked to a fucking parking lot and back. You’re fine. _

Dario sighed and got up, stumbling into the wall again.  _ Shit _ . He tried to collect himself and keep going, but he was tired. Exhausted. He slid down the wall and ended up on the floor, a pile of limbs. 

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. “Hey, are you ready?”

Shake opened the door to find Dario curled up on the floor next to his bed. “Oh, no, no no…” he sighed and knelt down next to him. “Is… is everything okay?”

“I-I hit… the wall…” Dario tried to explain, not wanting to say much.

“Ah, okay, does anything hurt?”

“No, I’m just… too tired to get up.”

“Oh,” Shake shifted a bit, “well, I can help you if you want.”

Dario hesitated, but nodded, slowly.

“Alright. Let’s go then,” Shake helped him up and cautiously walked him to the living room. “I’ll go get your jersey since we’re wearing ours, yeah?”

Dario nodded again, just wanting to be alone, just wanting Joel to come home. He nibbled at his chicken nuggets, not hungry despite not eating much all day.

“Hey, Dario, where’s your jersey at?” Shake called from the other room.

“Should be in the closet,” Dario responded, not putting any effort towards being heard.

“OH, WAIT, Alright, found it!” Shake returned to the living room and tossed the jersey to Dario. “You need help putting it on, or…?”

“I’m good,” Dario sighed, “thanks.”

—————

**POSTGAME INTERVIEWS**

**PHI 117 - ATL 110**

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA** : do you hope to see Dario Saric back on the court anytime soon?

**BRETT BROWN** : There’s no way to know. We’re receiving daily updates regarding his condition but it seems like he’ll be out until the playoffs, at least. Joel told me he’s figuring out how to walk again, and he seems more hopeful every day. As of right now we know he’s on track to recover and hopefully return to the league soon. 

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA** : how is the team’s chemistry right now?

**BEN SIMMONS** : Good. Almost better than ever. I think we could communicate a little better on the court, but otherwise, we’re as close and as happy as we’ve ever been. City of brotherly love and all, I suppose.

**MATISSE THYBULLE** : We’re vibing, as the TikTok influencers say.

**TOBIAS HARRIS** : Please never say that again, Matisse.

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA** : do you believe that upon his return to the league, Dario Saric’s presence at the 4 will patch up the effects of the Al Horford problem?

**JOEL EMBIID** : I hope so. I miss him. I think he’ll be able to fix it if he’s able to come back. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but it’s only been three weeks since the initial incident anyway. I fucking love th—

  
**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA** : no swearing on air, Joel.


	7. brief encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretend to sleep, pretend to sleep  
> Come on, pretend, yeah, let's pretend  
> Yeah, let's pretend

The night passed without much incident. It wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as Dario thought it would be, although Shake had to stay to help him get changed and ready for bed. Dario didn’t want anyone seeing him that vulnerable, that fragile, barely able to take care of himself. Shake and Norvel had no idea how long he had been wearing that hoodie, or how long it had been since his last shower.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay? I can stay over if you want, it’s really not a big deal,” Shake was hesitant to leave, lingering in the doorway of Dario’s bedroom.

“I’ll be fine,” Dario reassured him, just wanting to finally be able to sleep.

“... Alright,” Shake sighed, “see you soon. Today was really fun.”

“Yeah, it was great.”

And then, Dario was alone. He almost considered calling Shake right away and asking him to come back, but he figured he should just wait to fall asleep. It was unusual that he couldn’t fall asleep, anyway, being that it was the first day in weeks that he didn’t fully sleep through. So, he stared out the window at the city lights. 

Dario faded in and out of bad dreams all night. They weren’t anything too bad, but he was uncomfortable. All he could do was hold onto his shark plushie as everything spun, threatening to throw him against the wall or the ceiling. He didn’t know if the ceaseless vertigo was worse than nightmares of being in the hospital.

But then, it was the morning. Suddenly. And Dario had a few minutes before everything would start to spin again. 

***11:56 PM***

**JOEL** : Hey

**JOEL** : Actually I hope you’re asleep

**JOEL** : I’ll be home by like 2 tomorrow

**JOEL** : Be good

Dario smiled to himself and put his phone down. He just had to wait. It was only a few more hours. Not wanting to have to wait to be scooped up off the floor, Dario decided on eating a granola bar from the box next to his bed for breakfast. _ I should get up. I should show Joel that I can take care of myself. I should do something nice for him, even. _

The room spun more than usual as Dario tried to get up and be productive for once. He felt like he was barely in his own body.  _ Okay, this is fucking weird. _ Dario put down his granola bar a bit too aggressively, sending Nature Valley crumbs flying across the nightstand. Everything felt so distant. The door was miles away. The bathroom connected to his room was basically on another continent. The kitchen was a whole other planet. Anything outside of the apartment was completely incomprehensibly far away. He felt frozen. He couldn’t move, even if he tried. 

_ Just wait. It’ll only be four hours and then he’ll be home. _

**DARIO** : see you then!!

———

Dario never ended up getting ready and being productive. He was still a disheveled mess when he heard the front door click open. He still felt like he was detached from his body, anyway, hovering somewhere above himself. Really, he just couldn’t move. He didn’t know if he would be able to speak to Joel, even. He felt like he was just losing more and more feeling as the afternoon went on. He waited patiently for his bedroom door to click open. He wasn’t sure what would happen.

“Hey,” Joel said softly, opening the door.

“... Hey,” Dario smiled, not even able to sit up. He didn’t know what was going on or why he felt like he was six feet away from his body, but this moment was pure bliss. Somehow.

“You survived?”

“Barely.”

“I heard Shake made you walk a bit.”

“Yeah. I needed it.”

“Tired?”

“Too tired,” Dario sighed. He figured it would be a good time to bring up to Joel the fact that he couldn’t move the majority of his body, but he was so excited to see him safe and happy and perfectly fine that he didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Me too, man,” Joel laughed, “that game last night was crazy.”

“I want… I want to go soon.”

“You will,” Joel tried to reassure him, “you’ll get there. I mean, shit, you went all the way out to Shake’s car yesterday?”

“Yeah, we went to Shake Shack and—”

“Dude, wasn’t your goal just to get out to the hallway?”

“I think it was, actually,” Dario laughed, “but…” he trailed off, scared to tell Joel how he was feeling. 

“Is everything ok?”

“I can’t move, like, at all—” Dario tried to wiggle around, but couldn’t. It just wouldn’t happen. “I feel like… I feel like I’m across the room.”

“Uh—” Joel grabbed Dario’s arm and tried to stretch it out, but it was stuck, bent. “Yeah. That’s not good.”

“I don’t know why. It doesn’t really hurt or anything, but… I just can’t feel it.”

“Do you think it’ll just pass?”

“Probably,” Dario lied, just wanting an excuse to not go back to the hospital.

“In that case…” Joel smiled, “want to go play some 2k or something?”

Dario nodded, silent, and Joel scooped him up into his arms. It felt… right. Even as he couldn’t even stretch out, just curled up in a rigid ball, it felt comforting to be in Joel’s arms. Joel placed Dario down on the sofa, and somehow, he missed being held.

“You cold?”

“Little bit.”

Joel came back with a fuzzy green blanket and wrapped it around Dario’s shoulders. “There you go, then.”

Dario wished he could have been closer to Joel, but he was stuck there, on the other side of the sofa.  _ I should just be happy he’s home. _ Dario sighed and continued watching as Joel simulated the rest of the season.

———

“You can’t keep falling asleep in the middle of the day like this,” Joel sighed, gently shaking Dario awake, “you keep scaring me…”

“Sorry…” 

“Are you feeling any better, though?”

“Yeah, I think…” Dario sat up and pulled the green blanket around his shoulders, “yeah, I’m feeling better.”

“Good to see that. Maybe you were just sore from walking all that way yesterday.”

“Maybe.”

“It’ll be a mystery,” Joel laughed. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“I want to go back to sleep…”

“Not now,” Joel tried to reassure Dario, “you need to get a good night of sleep later on, for sure.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“We could go out for dinner or something, if you want. To keep you awake. I guess.”

Dario still didn’t want anyone to see him in the state he was in. As twisted as it sounded, he didn’t want some Sixers blogger to suddenly have information about his condition that the team didn’t even know. He started to imagine what would be said about him on Twitter if anyone found out outside of what the team had deliberately been releasing. 

“We could just order from somewhere, if that’s any better. I don’t really feel like going out, anyway,” Joel suggested. 

Dario nodded, “I-I’m not really ready to go out.”

“Understandably,” Joel agreed. He knew Dario didn’t want anyone seeing him until he was back to feeling like himself. “... Would you come if I went to pick something up?”

“Yeah. I want to see the city from the ground again.”

“Wanna go now?”

———

The trek outside was just as difficult as the day before, if not worse. Joel kept one hand firmly on Dario’s back, trying to support him as much as he could as he wobbled down the hall towards the elevator.

“You’re sure you’re good?” Joel asked, concerned, as each step turned more into a stumble.

Dario nodded, focused entirely on making it down the hall.

“I think I could make this a bit easier,” Joel wrapped an arm around Dario’s waist, trying to steady him even more. 

Dario kept wobbling until they eventually made it outside. He waited as Joel unstrapped his arms from his crutches and tossed them in the back of the car.

“That doesn’t bother you at all?” Joel asked, curious as to why Dario was even all strapped in in the first place.

“Not really,” Dario shrugged as he climbed into the passenger seat of Joel’s car, “I can’t really hold them yet, so…”

“Yeah, I guess it’s necessary.”

After a few seconds of silence, Joel handed the AUX to Dario. “Come on. Show me what you’ve been listening to.”

_ Nothing. Static. The sound of my ears ringing for the past two weeks since I’ve woken up.  _ Dario wanted to say something, but decided against it. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard your stuff in a while.”

“Yours is better!”

“Nah, I don’t know.”

“It is, believe me,” Joel tried to convince him. 

Dario sighed and fumbled with the AUX cord, struggling to plug it into his phone. He eventually put on his Discover Weekly from Spotify and pretended he was paying attention.

“I heard the fried rice from this place is fire,” Joel tried to make conversation.

“I hope it is.”

Something didn’t feel the same as before. It wasn’t uncomfortable, necessarily, but something had just… shifted. Dario stared out the window, mesmerized by the tall buildings, shining glass, and blinking lights. Joel glanced over at him, appreciating how invested he was in the world around them.  _ He almost died, after all. Maybe there’s some insight in that. _

“Do you want to go to that park again? Spruce Street?”

Dario looked up at Joel, almost pleadingly. He didn’t want to do anything else. It was taking so much out of him just to go on take-out runs across the city. He was just  _ sitting in a car _ and he felt his heart pounding and his breathing getting heavy.

“We can just sit in the car and watch the lights. I don’t want to make you do anything more than you should.”

“Good plan.”

———

The fried rice was good and all, but Dario spent most of the evening staring wide eyed at the color changing lights hanging from the trees, hypnotized. 

Although he was quieter than before, Joel still appreciated Dario’s presence in the passenger seat of his car. He glanced over occasionally without trying to make much conversation, no matter how much he wanted to. He wanted to single handedly steady Dario’s vision so the world wouldn’t spin around him anymore and he could get back to being himself. He wished there was some magic cure that could make Dario instantly better, restore him to how he was before his injury, just fix him. 

But… Joel couldn’t fix him. No one could. He just had to wait, and Dario had to wait, and he had to drive him around to doctors’ appointments he didn’t want to go to. If there’s one thing Joel had noticed, it’s that Dario wasn’t very good at being vulnerable. But vulnerability had taken up so much of Dario’s essence. His sense of fascination with the world wasn’t gone, was it? His goofy personality? His jokes that made no sense? Before the night of the injury, it had been two years since they had been together like that. There was really no way to know without asking, but Joel wanted to know the details.

Dario picked at his fried rice, not wanting to eat much, just trying to enjoy the night as much as he could. His head was pounding again. His stomach was churning, just a little. He just wanted to go home. Somehow, he couldn’t exactly place where home was. Right now, it seemed to be mostly Joel’s guest room. He hated how tired he was at all hours of the day, no matter what he did or didn’t do. He felt disgusting, staying in the same clothes for days, too weak to even attempt to clean himself up without help. It sucked, truly. Dario wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“You’re not hungry?”

“I really haven’t been, since…”

“Ah. Makes sense,” Joel sighed, once again hit with the reality of how far Dario had to go until his life even regained a semblance of normalcy. “Want to head home soon?” Joel asked, seeing that Dario had put down his dinner.

Dario nodded, “can I shower when we get home?”

“Yeah, of course,” Joel started backing out of the parking space, “glad to see you with some motivation.”

———

Dario always found it hard to relax at first. It was hard to get used to someone else washing your hair because your hands could barely move. He tried to help, but his hands were too weak, incessantly tensed and cramped in positions that wouldn’t help anyone. 

“You don’t need to help,” Joel sighed, “just relax, please.”

“But…”

“You’ll be able to do all of this soon, alright? I just don’t want you getting frustrated.”

Dario stayed silent. He wasn’t sure if he felt more embarrassed or comforted. Either way, Joel was gentle, and the water was warm, and he almost felt himself falling asleep against the cold tile. 

Soon enough, Dario had gotten changed into a big hoodie and sweatpants. Joel helped guide him back to his bed. It was still early, but it had been a long day, and Dario was exhausted.

“Goodnight, bud,” Joel smiled as he went to leave the room. After not hearing a response, he turned around. “You want me to stay?”

“That… that would be nice,” Dario said softly, his words slurring together.

Joel laughed, almost inaudibly, and sat down on the bed. After a few minutes, Dario wiggled closer, shark plushie under one arm. He reached his other arm across Joel’s stomach and pressed his face against his chest. Joel assumed he was already asleep.

“You’ll get through this, bud. I know you will,” Joel rubbed gentle circles on Dario’s back, causing him to wiggle even closer. Joel smiled and gently kissed Dario’s forehead, smoothing his still-damp hair away. “I guess we should both get some sleep, then.”


	8. inside out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those eyes light a fire  
> In the stomach  
> Fall apart  
> From the inside out

By the time Dario woke up the next morning, Joel was already getting ready for practice.

“Hey, glad to see you’re up! I was just going to ask if you wanted to come today,” Joel said cheerily, popping into Dario’s room. 

Dario hesitated for a moment. He was tired. His legs ached. He wasn’t sure if he wanted anyone seeing him at the moment. But, shit, Ben had seen him, and Shake and Norvel had spent a whole day with him, and Joel was taking care of him every day. The whole team was getting updates, anyway. It couldn’t hurt.

“I’ll go. I think I’m ready.”

“We can leave early, if you want,” Joel suggested, trying to help make Dario feel more comfortable with the prospect of going out.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll just sit and watch.”

“That’s all I expected, anyway,” Joel laughed, “you don’t have to do much else yet.”

“Do you think… will it be a big deal?”

“I don’t think so, I mean… sure, some people might be a bit uncomfortable, but you’re really, really not doing well and that’s just how people react in general,” Joel noted, “come on, let’s get ready now.” He tossed Dario his jersey, as well as a grey sweatshirt to layer under it. “We’re leaving in ten minutes, alright?”

Joel shut the door on the way out. Dario was left alone to get ready. He struggled to get up, crashing into the wall again, as usual. It was predictable. He still never braced for impact. The wall came at him too quick every time. But Joel didn’t hear, so Dario wobbled off to the bathroom to attempt to get ready by himself. 

_ You’ll be fine. _

Dario stared at himself in the mirror as he wiggled out of Joel’s hoodie. He hated seeing himself between hoodie swaps — he was skinny, fragile, could be knocked over by a slight breeze. At least with a bulky hoodie on, he looked like he could be the same underneath, if you didn’t look close enough, and ignored the dark purple splotches under his deep, brown eyes. He sighed as he wiggled into the grey sweatshirt Joel gave him, and brushed his hair out of the way with the back of his hand. Maybe because he was nervous, or maybe just as yet another symptom of his injury, his hands trembled as he made sure he was ready to go. His jersey was laid out on the counter, but somewhere between picking it up and putting it on, Dario’s hands forgot what to do, tensing up, freezing.  _ Joel can help with that. _ Dario took one last painful look at himself in the mirror, and made his way to meet Joel by the front door.

“Forgot your jersey?”

“Couldn’t put it on.”

“Ah,” Joel smiled and helped Dario wiggle into the jersey. “There you go, then.”

Dario waited patiently as Joel strapped him into his crutches so they could get going. Luckily, it only took a moment before he could wobble down the hall.

“Listen, bud. It’s going to be a big day. We can leave whenever you want, alright?”

Dario nodded, focusing all of his energy into placing one foot after the other, nervous, and aching, but ready. It was about time to see everyone again.

———

The practice facility was brighter than Dario remembered. His eyes immediately began stinging under the fluorescent lights as he followed Joel into the gym. He looked down to avoid the bright lights, but they reflected on the shiny wood floor.  _ I should have brought sunglasses. _ Dario’s entire body trembled as he fought his legs giving out under him. He had to make a good first impression on his new teammates and coaching staff and everyone in the building that morning. He didn’t want them to lose faith in him before he could even start practicing again. So, quietly, he sat down on the bench and pretended he was just spectating, invisible.

Dario wasn’t used to the media squad, the cameras and microphones blitzing across the gym. Sure, he had been playing professional basketball only a month ago, but it felt like it had been years. He had only seen one media representative — back when he was in the hospital, when it was okay for him to be dizzy and disoriented and without much control of his limbs. It had been a month. Nothing much had changed. He should have been better by now, but instead, he was left watching his teammates do what he was supposed to be doing, awaiting the inevitable hounding by the media squad. And his ceaseless headache was only getting worse.

Interview time.

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA:** How does it feel to be back in Philadelphia after two years?

**DARIO SARIC:** It feels great. I missed this city and I missed representing this team. I haven’t been able to get out much due to my injury, but I hope to be able to start sitting on the bench during games soon.

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA:** That’s great to hear. Do you think any of your teammates will be All Stars this season?

**DARIO SARIC:** Joel, definitely. Best center in the league. 100%. And I know Ben will make the roster, too. They’re both absolutely incredible players and deserve All Star spots more than anyone.

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA:** How have you been recovering from your injury? Are you feeling any better?

**DARIO SARIC:** I’ve been doing lots of physical therapy. Every day. But I still feel dizzy all the time, even when I’m just sitting down eating breakfast or something. I’m tired all the time too. I’m not sure if I feel like myself yet. The lights in here are killing me — I’m sorry, no, keep them on, it’s fine.

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA:** It’s great to hear you’ve been doing better. That was one scary injury. Do you think you’ll be back on the court anytime soon?

**DARIO SARIC:** I don’t know. I know I’ll be back on the court when I’m ready. It’s been a long month and I’m motivated to keep getting better so I can come back. I’ll get there. I know I will. 

**NBC SPORTS PHILADELPHIA:** Thank you so much for stopping by the practice facility today. We hope you have a quick, easy recovery, and we can’t wait to see you back on the court.

———

_ What the actual fuck did I just get myself into?  _ Dario sighed as he rubbed his eyes, still stinging from the bright lights in the gym. The reality was beginning to set in that his little interview would soon be posted just about everywhere, and that anyone who wanted to could see him in the state he was in.  _ Shit. This isn’t private anymore. I can’t hide. _

Joel finally came over to the bench a few minutes later. He greeted the media squad that was still hovering around. They asked him for a quick comment regarding All Star voting, but he declined, noticing that Dario was staring off at nothing in particular, looking noticeably uncomfortable.

“Is everything alright?” Joel asked, grabbing a water bottle off the bench.

“My head hurts,” Dario half-lied. He wasn’t sure if feeling insecure was a valid reason to want to leave.

“You want to go home?”

“Yeah.”

“We can go.”

Dario waited as Joel went to talk to someone from the coaching staff, explaining that they had to leave due to Dario not feeling well.  _ Half bullshit. But at least he cares. _

———

By the time they got back to Joel’s apartment, Dario was fully exhausted. He reassured himself that he wasn’t lying about why he wanted to leave — his head was pounding, anyway, and he just wanted to curl up in bed with the lights off. 

“I’m proud of you for doing all of that,” Joel noted as he made sure Dario got back to his room.

“Sorry I made you leave early.”

“It’s fine. You needed to come home, evidently.”

Dario nodded and pulled the blankets over his head, wanting to forget that he even went along to practice. He barely even got to talk to anyone. He could barely even remember if he saw any of his teammates. It was all a blur. But he knew he was approached by the media team, and that it would probably hit the internet later that day. And then, everyone would know.

“You seem really, really upset…” Joel asked, sitting down on the bed, resting a hand on Dario’s shoulder over the blanket, “Is something up that you’re not telling me, bud?” 

“Could you… check twitter?”

“Huh?”

“Check twitter.”

**sixers** : Glad to have you back, Homie. @dariosaric

“They posted your little interview,” Joel stayed, trying to keep it matter of fact.

“Fuck.”

“You sound good! And… you look good. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Look at the replies, please.”

“You wouldn’t like th—”

Dario reached out of the blankets and grabbed Joel’s phone out of his hand.

**phillyphreak7676** : he sounds drunk lol

**sportsdude382** : brain damage.

**homiesharkstan** : ohhh my goodness someone take care of him pls >_< he needs a hug

**grittyplsadoptme** : I’m telling you right now there’s no way he’s coming back lmao

**76ersWRLD** : this might be the worst trade in NBA history

“I told you you wouldn’t like them,” Joel sighed as he heard Dario slam his phone against the mattress, making a dull thud. “But… I think it was a good interview. You said all the right things, honestly.”

“But I’m…”

“Injured.”

“Right,” Dario sighed.

“They don’t even know you can’t walk on your own. Outside of you, me, and the medical team, everyone thinks you just have a bad concussion.”

“That makes it… Worse?”

“Just… don’t worry about it, bud.”

Dario tried not to worry. He could get his mind off of it a little if he was focusing on something else. But the entire time at his physical therapy appointment, he thought about what he had to fix so no one would suspect that anything was wrong ever again. He wanted to watch the video over and over again, making sure his arms weren’t in frame, or his crutches weren’t off to the side, giving everyone a clue as to what was really wrong. 

And later that night, he wouldn’t stop watching it, analyzing his every move, scrolling through hundreds of replies —

**he’s never going to come back.**

**he’s done.**

**that’s obviously more than just a concussion.**

**the Sixers should have never made that trade.**

**he’s beyond fucked. I don’t see a future for him in the NBA.**

**it’s not safe to play after having a brain injury that severe. ever.**

**he’s lost so much muscle. there’s no coming back from that in a month or two.**

**sixers need to just let him go lmao**

“You need to stop obsessing over that tweet,” Joel sighed, pulling Dario’s phone out of his hands as he plopped down next to him on the sofa.

“The replies are… freaking me out.”

“People think they can say whatever they want when they hide behind the username ProcessSZN.”

Dario nodded, slowly, leaning in closer to Joel.

“And, besides, you know how supportive everyone on the team is, right? Tisse texted me earlier and said he was bummed that he didn’t even get to say hi today. Shake and Norvel were happy to see you there, too.”

“I guess so.”

“That’s what matters. Not randos on the internet,” Joel laughed, gently wrapping an arm around Dario and pulling him closer. “You think you’ll want to come to practice again on Friday? We have a game tomorrow, so you can rest up before going out again.”

“I think I’ll come.”

“Sounds great. Maybe we’ll even have you shoot a little bit.”

Dario laughed, knowing that Joel was joking. But still, it hurt to know that he couldn’t even shoot a basketball if he tried. And as he tried to fall asleep that night, with Joel sitting patiently next to him, he was haunted by the internet’s reaction to seeing him in the state he was in. It was all public now. A new angle to be criticized from. A new reason for Dario to want to hide. Still, somehow, he knew that if he wanted to get better, he had to make an effort. He just had to find the motivation.


	9. okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You seem worse now than before  
> Time will kill and lose it's touch  
> And I'm not kidding  
> You're my only friend
> 
> Take your time  
> Know you'll be okay

The next week blitzed by. February 3rd. All Star voting was ending that night. Joel seemed anxious, unlike his usual carefree self. He was quiet as he woke Dario up that morning, nearly silent as he got ready for practice. He made Dario breakfast without him even having to ask. Something was up.

“You think you’ll make it again?” Dario asked Joel as he munched on his plain toast after getting ready for practice. He had been going to every one, at least for an hour or two, since Joel had encouraged him. It was exhausting. The lights still burned his eyes, so he started bringing sunglasses. He mostly just sat on the bench, encouraging his teammates, trying not to feel insecure, hiding in plain sight. 

“I think so,” Joel shrugged, confident, “it’s in Miami this year, so I really hope I make it.”

“Beach trip?”

“If I make it,” Joel laughed, “you ever been to South Beach?”

Dario shook his head.

“Never stopped by on a road trip?”

“No, don’t think so.”

“We played together for two years and then some and we never went to the beach in Miami?”

“Somehow.”

“Listen, if I make it into the All Star game, you’re coming with me.”

Dario laughed, “you think I’ll be able to?”

“Absolutely. This just depends on me.”

“I know you’ll make it. You’ve got a whole city that loves you.”

“And 29 other cities that don’t.”

“You really think Charlotte, North Carolina has all that much going for them?”

“Eh, I guess you’re right. Let’s just see how it goes.”

The drive to practice was quicker than usual. No awful traffic. Dario’s head was pounding, the sunlight nearly blinding him although he had sunglasses on. 

“You wanna stay for like, an hour?” Joel asked as he waited for Dario to catch up as they walked into the practice facility.

“Think so,” Dario responded, quiet, just focused on putting one foot after the other.

“Sounds good to me,” Joel laughed, “I just want to go home and wait for the results to come in.”

Dario quietly assumed his place on the bench, settling in to cheer his teammates on and try to ignore the media squad. After a few minutes, he heard clanging footsteps on the bleachers behind him and turned around to see Shake stomping down towards him.

“It’s so great to see you here, dude!” Shake hopped over the last row to sit next to Dario on the bench.

“Why aren’t you practicing?”

“Sprained ankle,” Shake pointed to the ice pack wrapped tightly around his leg.

“That sucks.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Shake laughed, “but seriously, I’m so glad you’re here. Didn’t want to sit out by myself.”

“Does the Rising Stars roster come out tonight, too?” Dario asked, trying to change the subject in case Shake was planning on asking about his recovery.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You think you’ll make it?”

“Absolutely not,” Shake sighed, “I think Matisse could do it, though.”

“Yeah, easily,” Dario agreed, worried that the subject wasn’t far enough away yet.

“Do you think… if Joel goes down to Miami… do you think you’d want me to stay with you again?”

Dario stayed silent, trying to think of a response that wasn’t  _ actually, if Joel’s going, I’m going with him. _ “Yeah, that would be fun…”

“We could watch the games and have another little party! Wait, actually that would be so much fun! We could do it at my place since I don’t really want to trash Joel’s apartment, especially while he’s not home...”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Dario went along with Shake’s plan.

“Well, I guess we just have to wait for the polls to finalize, then…”

———

Joel was still on edge when they eventually left practice. He was quiet as they trekked back to his car. Dario was always a bit slower on the way back, tired just from leaving the apartment, and he wished this seemingly endless walk would be over soon. He hadn’t seen Joel this nervous since that 2018 playoff series vs the Celtics. And now… he didn’t know what to say.

“You’ve made it every year, you know,” Dario tried to reassure Joel.

“That’s why there’s so much pressure.”

“I’m not worried,” Dario smiled, “I know you’ll make it.”

The drive home was much more normal than the drive to practice. Routine traffic on I-76. What was it this time? Construction? A fifteen car pile-up? A random tree down across two lanes? The world may never know. 

“Shit, dude, how is your Discover Weekly always so good?” Joel tapped on the steering wheel along to the beat of the jangly indie song playing on the AUX.

“I’ve got it down to a science,” Dario grinned.

“Have you checked twitter in a while?”

“Haven’t been on in days. Still hurts to look at my phone all that much.”

“Do you think there have been any Woj bombs about the voting?”

“Let’s just wait until we get home,” Dario suggested, wanting to avoid making his endless headache any worse for the day. 

When they finally made it home, Dario was running out of energy. He wanted to go to sleep, but he ended up curling up on the sofa as Joel checked the All Star polls on his laptop. Dario watched as Joel refreshed the tab, over and over, almost wanting to count the sheer number of times Joel was clicking. But he lost count every time, eyelids heavy, just wanting to rest from another long day of tagging along to practice.

“Well… where are you right now?” Dario asked, finally, too sleepy to continue watching.

“... I’m in the top 15. It changes every few clicks.”

“So, you’re in.”

“Maybe.”

“And polls close in…”

“Two hours.”

“Jo. You have to stop,” Dario sighed, looking up at Joel with his big, pleading puppy eyes.

_ Irresistible _ . “Fine. What do you want to do, then?”

“I like watching you play video games.”

Like every single time before, Dario was asleep within minutes. Joel didn’t bother shaking him awake this time.  _ Maybe he needs extra sleep, with the brain injury and all. Maybe I should just let him sleep all day until he’s better. Might make things go a bit quicker.  _

Joel sighed, getting up from the sofa. He debated carrying Dario back to his bed, and then wondered about what to get for dinner, and then…

**TOBI** : Congrats Ben and Jo on making the all star game!

**KYLE** : And congrats to our rookie for making rising stars!!

**TISSE** : ur too sweet :-)

**SHAKE** : congrats everyone!!!

**AL** : Always knew our boys would make it!

Joel put his phone down after responding to some texts from his family and went to finally wake Dario up.

“Bud,” Joel couldn’t hide his smile as he gently shook Dario awake.

“H-hmm?”

“Me, you, Ben, Tisse, South Beach, two weeks from now.”

“I told you you’d make it,” Dario mumbled, reaching up to wrap his arms around Joel.

“You’re right. I didn’t really have much to worry about.”

“And now we get to go to the beach…” as excited as he was, Dario felt a wave of cold realization come over him.  _ Two weeks. I have two weeks to be able to handle All Star weekend. _

Dario thought about the flight, not knowing if he was even cleared to go on a plane.  _ What if something’s wrong with the air pressure and it makes it all worse? _ He considered having to expose his new scars.  _ You can’t wear a hoodie to the beach like that, you know. And there’s going to be cameras everywhere…  _

“You want dumplings for dinner?” Joel asked, snapping Dario out of his haze.

“Hm? Yeah, I guess—”

“I just saw this new dumpling place on Instagram and it looks sick,” Joel laughed, “nice celebratory dinner and all.”

“We can go, if you want.”

“You think you’re ready?”

“It’s… it’s worth a shot.”

———

It was better than nothing. No one recognized him, somehow. The dumplings were great. His head was pounding. Dario was absolutely exhausted by the time they got home. He couldn’t wait to peel off his denim jacket and button down shirt and get changed into one of Joel’s hoodies. 

“You did great today,” Joel said softly as Dario joined him on the sofa to watch whatever game was on. Jazz v Clippers.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Joel laughed, “are you ready for All Star weekend?”

“I… I’m not sure.”

“I think it’ll all be good,” Joel tried to reassure him, “what are you so nervous about?”

“Well, the trip down there… the way I’ll basically be sneaking in… and… I really still don’t want anyone seeing me like this.”

“First of all, you look fine. Maybe not ready to get back on the court or anything, but—”

“I don’t. I saw what everyone was saying. I see myself in the mirror every day. I look like… I look like I should be dead.”

“Don’t say that,” Joel sighed, “I’m happy you’re here. You can’t have an injury like that and just spring back to normal. It’s okay.”

“I guess,” Dario responded, quiet, barely wanting to acknowledge Joel’s constant words of reassurance. “I just… I’m just nervous.”

“It’s All Star weekend, Dario. People do worse things than sneaking down there. There’s nothing that says you can’t go, plus you’re not actively playing in the league, anyway. Just chill on the beach; it’ll all work out.”

_ Just chill on the beach. As if I can do that. As if some wandering cell phone camera isn’t going to get me posted all over Sixers gossip blogs with all sorts of new scars and bruises and lost muscle and get me turned into a talking point. Someone’s going to see me walking lopsided on crutches and blame the Sixers’ medical team. They’ll talk about me on ESPN. It’s going to be everywhere. I snuck into All Star weekend, looking like a fucking mess. Out on the beach instead of working on getting better.  _

“It’ll be great as long as I’m with you, Jo,” Dario finally remarked, smiling through his dazed and paranoid thoughts. 

“You think so? I’m the common denominator here, not the beach, or the weekend off?”

“Yeah,” Dario laughed softly, “you are.”

And somehow, despite everything, it was true. Joel laughed in response and pulled him in, initiating cuddles that Dario didn’t even know he needed. Even with new, unforeseen challenges and a ceaseless headache, he still wouldn’t trade this for the world. 

  
  
  



	10. if i ever feel better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say an end can be a start  
> Feels like I've been buried yet I'm still alive  
> It's like a bad day that never ends  
> I feel the chaos around me  
> A thing I don't try to deny  
> I'd better learn to accept that  
> There are things in my life that I can't control

**SHAKE** : r we still on for this weekend?

**DARIO** : I’m actually going with Joel to Miami

**SHAKE** : o okay

**SHAKE** : I’m still having my little party tho lol

**SHAKE** : enjoy the beach you need it

Dario put his phone down on the coffee table in the living room and sighed. “I can’t even tell if I’m missing anything.”

“I think you’re good,” Joel laughed, “it’s going to be warm down there, though, did you—”

“It’s like you’re forgetting I played for the Suns.”

“Shut up.”

Dario playfully shoved Joel, ending up losing his balance and flopping back onto the sofa. “Yeah, I think I’m good then. I think I’m all packed. I haven’t been on a trip like this in forever.”

“Excited, then?”

“Still mostly nervous. Really nervous. I’m scared of… like… everything. I’m scared of walking to the plane.”

“Don’t be so nervous. We’ll be with Ben and Matisse, either way. If anything happens, they can help.”

“But what if—”

“Dude, they both visited you when you were in a coma. I think they’re the least likely people to judge you.”

“That’s true,” Dario admitted. “Do you think I could bring my plushie shark?”

“Uh, yeah, if it fits in your suitcase.”

“I’ll make it work. He deserves to come with us.”

“Dedicated.”

“I need  _ something _ to cuddle as I’m watching the games alone in the hotel room,” Dario sighed, half joking, half completely serious.

“Well, be quick! We have to head out for the airport in two hours.”

_ Two hours. _ Dario wasn’t sure if he was ready. He still barely saw himself when he looked in the mirror, but he was getting used to his spindly limbs and dark circles under his eyes. He was getting stronger, slowly. He was walking more. It was getting easier, little by little. He was still too sensitive to lights and sound, so he would have to spend most of the weekend away from the All Star game and events themselves, but he was still happy to be going. He even promised Joel he would go to the beach, even if he was terrified. 

“You need some sun, anyway,” Joel reassured Dario one last time as they headed off to the airport.

Dario nodded. He loved the beach before. He grew up on the coast of the Adriatic Sea, always close to the water. Now, it wasn’t the beach he was terrified of — it was more just the simple act of being seen. It had taken him almost a month to be comfortable enough to acknowledge his reflection, and he couldn’t imagine what it was like for others to see him. He tried not to think about it, but it always crept in.

The flight was relatively easy. Dario slept for most of it, his head resting on Joel’s shoulder. He would open his eyes occasionally, cautious, making sure his head didn’t explode from any potential changes in air pressure. But, mostly, everything was fine. And then, they landed.

_ Miami _ . Dario immediately felt a pit of regret forming deep in his stomach.  _ I shouldn’t even be here. I need to go home. _

“Everything alright?” Joel asked softly, waiting for Ben and Matisse to grab their bags before heading off to find their rental car.

“Mhm,” Dario looked up at him, “I’m fine.”

“Relax,” Joel laughed, “You don’t even have to walk much more. It’ll be okay. And… your legs are holding up alright? You don’t feel like you’re going to pass out?”

“I’m okay,” Dario reassured him again, “I can keep going. I’m barely even tired.”

“Sure. I believe you.”

Dario was silent for the remainder of the trek to the rental car. By the time they got there, Ben and Matisse were already waiting.

“What took you guys so long?” Matisse asked, cheerily as usual, “we were thinking of heading out to get some smoothies if you two were down.”

“Uh, we couldn’t find our bags…” Joel lied, “and smoothies sound good.” He looked over at Dario, awaiting a nod of approval.

“I found this place that was featured on Insider or something,” Matisse rambled on as he backed out of the parking space, “it’s near our hotel, so I figured it was worth a shot.”

“I’m always down for a good smoothie,” Joel laughed, glancing over to see Dario leaning his head against the window. Joel could barely even tell if his eyes were open with his sunglasses on.  _ Don’t fall asleep now. _

Dario wasn’t even tired. He was taking in the city around him with wide eyes, looking up between the palm trees and intertwining highways. It almost reminded him of Phoenix in a way, as much as he hated to make that comparison. It was just so bright, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy and sick to his stomach again. But… this was a beach trip. It was going to be bright no matter what. He would simply have to deal with it and take whatever All Star weekend threw at him. And right now, that was a strawberry banana smoothie.

“Quite bold of you to pick the most basic flavor of the bunch,” Ben laughed as he handed Dario his smoothie, “let me know if this place is worthy of that Insider rating, though!”

“I’ll let you know,” Dario mumbled, trying not to let the smoothie slip out of his hands.

“You got it?” Joel asked, noticing that Dario seemed a bit shaky.

“Mhm. I’m good.”

“I think… I think we need to get you to the hotel. Something’s up.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Hey Tisse, how far is our hotel from here?” Joel leaned over the front console to ask before Dario could protest any more.

“Uh, ten or so minutes,” Matisse shrugged, “we could head there now, if you want.”

“Can we, please?”

“No problem.”

Dario put his smoothie down, suddenly somehow even less interested in drinking it.  _ I just ruined their whole afternoon. All because Joel was worried.  _ He looked out the window some more, trying to take everything in without getting too overwhelmed. His vision started fizzing as the bright sun started to hurt his eyes.  _ Maybe he wasn’t wrong, though. _

———

“Good thing we made it here early enough. We need to figure out dinner,” Joel laughed as he started unpacking. 

“Could you grab my shark plushie, please?”

“Yeah, when I’m done unpacking mine.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re sure you’re feeling alright?” Joel finally looked up, wanting to really make sure Dario wasn’t lying this time.

“Yeah, I think I’m all good.”

“Excited for the beach tomorrow?”

“... Mhm.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I’m not.” Dario didn’t want Joel to know, but he was dreading it, as much as he used to love laying out in the sun for hours, like a cat finding a warm spot on a hardwood floor.

“You’ll be alright,” Joel reassured him, “I mean, what’s the absolute worst thing that could happen?”

“... tsunami.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

“No. I’m sorry. I just don’t… I don’t want…” Dario sighed, “I’m just nervous.”

Joel wanted to prod more. He thought he knew what Dario could possibly be so upset about, but he didn’t want to assume. He would rather ask. But he knew Dario wouldn’t want to answer.

“You know, I heard it was going to be a little chilly tomorrow,” Joel tossed the shark plushie onto Dario’s bed, “I’m sure you could wear a hoodie to the beach if you want to and just take it off if you feel ready.”

“I guess so.”

“I mean, I don’t really think it’s a big deal either way,” Joel looked up, smiling. “You should just try to enjoy it.”

———

Dario woke up the next day to thirty seconds of bliss followed by an immense feeling of dread. Beach day.

He cracked one eye open and watched Joel start to get ready for the day. He then closed it and pretended he was still asleep, hoping Joel wouldn’t try to wake him up for a while. 

“Rise and shine, bud,” Joel smiled, gently shaking Dario awake, “beach day.”

“Beach day,” Dario repeated.

“Want to get ready? I’m here if you need any help.”

“Yeah. I think I’m good,” Dario nodded, just wanting to get this over with.

Soon enough, he was ready to go. As they trekked to the beach to meet up with Ben and Matisse, Dario noticed that it was a bit warmer than he anticipated. He still had his hoodie on, and didn’t want to take it off anytime soon, exposing all of his new scars from the hospital. The walk to the beach was nothing compared to the sheer anxiety Dario felt. He leaned on Joel to stay steady, cautiously taking one step at a time. Joel could tell something was wrong, but didn’t want to ask. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to take your hoodie off?” Joel asked as they finally found the beach chairs Ben and Matisse had set up.

“I’m sure.”

“It’s just… it’s really hot out… I don’t want you overheating or anything.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, well… Ben and Tisse are playing Spikeball if you want to join in,” Joel suggested, “... I’m gonna go head over there now, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah. I’ll just stay here.”

“You’re sure, bud?”

“Yeah.”

“I just… I want you to enjoy this weekend,” Joel sighed, “and I feel like it’s just stressing you out.”

“I’m having a great time. Don’t even worry about it.”

Dario watched Ben, Joel, and Matisse play Spikeball for the next hour or so. He wished he could have been there with them, but even getting up seemed to be too much effort. So, he flicked between watching his friends and watching the waves crash. The water was blue enough, but it was nothing compared to back home. Did he miss it? He missed his family. They were never able to visit him in the United States, anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal that he hadn’t been able to see them. He had no idea if he would go home for the offseason. He had no idea if he would even live to see the offseason. He couldn’t make plans. 

Even under the umbrella, it was starting to get hot. Dario wiggled around a bit, uncomfortable, his sweatshirt clinging to his body. At least there was barely anyone around to see him. Someone would occasionally walk by, or run into the Spikeball match going on down the beach, but… no one cared to even look at him. Maybe… he didn’t look so flat out  _ dead _ from a bystander’s perspective. Maybe no one recognized him. And there was always the possibility that everyone walking by was staring at him and he just didn’t notice. But… he ruled that out. He kept watching Joel and couldn’t help but notice that three was an odd number for Spikeball. There seemed to be a space where he should have been. But even if he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t walk down the beach alone. 

Joel eventually came back to the beach chairs about a half hour later to find Dario asleep, hood up, sunglasses on, head resting on a pile of towels. Joel laughed to himself before realizing that he should probably wake him up.

“Hey,” Joel said softly, gently placing a hand on Dario’s shoulder.

“Mmhhhey,” Dario said groggily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes under his sunglasses.

“You’re tired already?”

Dario nodded, his eyes getting used to the sun again.

“You… don’t look good,” Joel sighed, noticing that Dario’s face looked flushed, “are you sure you don’t want to take your hoodie off?”

Dario nodded again, more intensely this time, sending him into a dizzy spell.

“Oh no,” Joel sighed, digging into the cooler Matisse had dragged out to try to find a bottle of water. “I really think you should take it off, it’s like, a hundred degrees out here…”

“I’ll be fine,” Dario mumbled, pressing his palm against his forehead, trying to ignore the psychedelic static surrounding him.

“You’re nearly sweating through it, anyway,” Joel noted, passing a water bottle to Dario, “there’s no point in keeping it on.”

“I guess… you’re right, but… I’m just… nervous. A little.”

“Maybe going in the water would help cool you off...”

Dario looked up at Joel, and then out at the ocean. It was so… far away… and Dario wasn’t sure how he felt about going in. But the only way to go was forward.

“You wanna do it?” Joel asked.

Dario took a deep breath, and then nodded. Hesitant, he wiggled out of his sweatshirt, and then looked back up at Joel. “I’m ready.”

Joel laughed, scooping Dario up into his arms. Dario flailed a bit, but held on as Joel ran off to the water. He had almost forgotten how good that initial splash felt, and suddenly, a weight was lifted from his shoulders. It wasn’t so bad. Actually, it wasn’t bad at all. It was just him, and Joel, and the bright blue, cloudless sky above them. 

There was so much to process. There was so much to think about later. Joel hadn’t ever really cared about someone like this — even back in the Process, he and Dario were just friends, teammates, two scared rookies who had no idea what they were doing. And Dario wasn’t sure if he had ever trusted anyone enough to let them care about him as intimately as Joel did. But… here they were, floating along in the Atlantic Ocean as Ben and Matisse finished up a Spikeball match thirty yards away. Dario suddenly couldn’t care less who was watching him. He was with Joel, and that was all that mattered.

“You know… I’m proud of you,” Joel smiled, still holding Dario, making sure he wouldn’t get swept away by a riptide, “you’ve come so far. You’re getting so much stronger.”

“You think so?”

“I was so worried at first,” Joel laughed, “when you would just sulk all day… I was uncomfortable. I didn’t know what I had gotten into. But now… here we are.”

“I’m proud of you, too.”

“... What?”

“You’re the one playing in the All Star game. You deserve this more than anyone. I just know… I just know you’re going to be great tomorrow night.”

Joel looked down at Dario and gently smoothed his hair away from his forehead. “Thanks.”

Dario hadn’t felt this alive since… All Star break three years ago. For the first time since his injury, he wanted to  _ be there _ . He wanted to be a part of what was going on. He was still insecure, sure, but his friends were there to reassure him. The whole world had seen him on Twitter, so why not just accept the fact that his recovery process had been publicized? He didn’t need to hide. It would be too much effort to make sure no one saw him slip up or stumble. And it was always better to accept the situation than try to hide from it.

“Do you want to play Spikeball with me and Ben?” Joel asked, trying to encourage Dario to open up even more, “Tisse has to head off to Rising Stars practice soon, he has the game tonight…”

“I’m not sure if I can play, but I can come and watch…”

“Yeah, we need a scorekeeper, anyway!”

Dario smiled, staring up at the bright blue sky, realizing that the scariest decisions to make could often be the best ones. Maybe this trip would be a good thing in the end. And it was only the second day of All Star weekend.


	11. florida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s just I love you like an only son  
> and if I hadn’t been in Hollywood  
> when all I wanted was you  
> and all you wanted was me

Dario passed out cold as soon as he got back to the hotel room. He didn’t care how sandy and sweaty he was, or that Joel wanted to go out that night. He was exhausted. Joel still got ready as if they were going out, though, and eventually shook Dario awake a couple hours later.

“Rise and shine, for the third time today,” he laughed, “want to get ready? I think we could go check out downtown or something.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dario stretched slightly, still sleepy, “do you think I could shower before we go, though?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Joel smiled, “I’ll find somewhere for us to go get dinner…”

“With Ben?”

“... This can be just us, if you want.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be here if you need help with anything,” Joel suggested.

A half hour later, they were ready to go. 

**JOEL** : Did you take the car

**BEN** : nah I’m out w some people rn

**JOEL** : Some people?

**BEN** : yeah

**BEN** : figured you and Dario would want the car

**BEN** : since he can’t walk and all

**JOEL** : R u drinking already

**JOEL** : With the all star game tomorrow

**BEN** : it’s all star weekend I can party if I wanna

**BEN** : who are you gonna tell anyway?

**BEN** : Brett Brown?

**BEN** : the Australian embassy?

**BEN** : my mom?

**JOEL** : Cool it Mr Double Text

**BEN** : anyway yeah keys are with the front desk

**BEN** : I think Matisse took a bus to the game

**BEN** : or an Uber

**BEN** : I don’t know why the fuck I said a bus

**JOEL** : Considerate

**BEN** : enjoy your date

**JOEL** : Please stop texting me

**BEN** : rude

**BEN** : I’m just trying to relate

**BEN** : just trying to connect

**BEN** : ok I’ll leave you alone now have fun

“Who’s blowing up your phone?” Dario asked, laughing softly as he followed Joel out to the car.

“Ben,” Joel sighed, “he said he’s out but didn’t tell me who he’s out with.”

“I mean… is that an issue?”

“I’m just curious. I know Devin Booker is dating his old girl now, so…”

“Ah, yeah, that whole thing.”

“I thought you liked Devin!”

“He’s a nice guy, and a great player, but… I was lying.”

“Understandable.”

Dinner that night went well. Joel spent nearly a half hour in the car scrolling through pages and pages of reviews to try to find a restaurant. 

“Tacos?”

“Yeah.”

Dario basically dragged himself down the street until they got to where they were going. He was exhausted from being out in the sun all day. His head was spinning. Every time he looked up at Joel across the table, he was smiling. Happy to be there.

“I’m glad you came with me,” Joel remarked, trying to shake Dario out of his tired haze.

“Me too.”

“And I’m glad you actually managed to enjoy the beach.”

“It tired me out.”

“Believe me, I can tell…” Joel laughed.

The rest of the night was a blur. They made it back to the hotel in time to catch the end of the Rising Stars game. Ben was still out, declining Joel’s call to ask if he wanted to watch the game with them.

“Are you… nervous for the game tomorrow?” Dario asked, curled up in his bed, holding his shark plushie in his arms.

“Well… kind of. I’ve been to All Star weekend a few times now, though. It’s a different dynamic than a real game.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Like, if I made a fool of myself in Philly, it would be all over the place. But I’m definitely not the best guy on that All Star team. It’s not like Giannis or Bron or even Luka or Kawhi fucking up, y’know?”

“Must be some pressure off your shoulders.”

“Absolutely. It’s kinda just fun for guys like me and Ben.”

“Seems it.”

Joel sighed and went over to Dario’s bed, “is everything alright? You want me to stay with you and cuddle?”

Dario froze for a moment, silent, and then nodded. Somewhere, he realized, deep in the pit of his stomach, he was convinced he would never be back on a basketball court again. Having to watch Ben and Joel and Matisse play this weekend was only making it worse. His career was over. He knew it. The twitter critics were right. He was done.

Joel laughed softly and slid in next to Dario, wrapping an arm around him.

“You’re going to do great tomorrow; I know it,” Dario said softly, nearly falling asleep in Joel’s arms. 

“Thanks,” Joel smiled, “every single point I score will be for you, don’t even worry about it.”

Dario laughed to himself, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.

“I’m not even kidding. If they ask me how I played so well I’ll tell them it’s because I did it all for you.”

“All for me?”

“Always.”

———

Joel left early the next morning for practice and then the game later that night. Dario stayed behind, waiting for Matisse to come over. After hearing a knock at the door of the hotel room, Dario trudged out of bed, feeling tingly from his slight sunburn from the day before. 

“Good morning,” Matisse greeted him, “you look real sleepy!”

“I am,” Dario blinked, trying to keep himself awake, “yesterday tired me out.”

“You want to go to the beach again?” Matisse asked, leaning against the cabinet at the front of the room.

“Hm, not without Jo…” Dario shook his head.

“He’s that important?”

“He made me feel better yesterday. I was terrified.”

“That’s cute,” Matisse laughed, “you want to go get breakfast, then? I wanted to go to Starbucks and all, but… can you have coffee?””

“Not yet.”

“Right, it would hurt your head… Joel told me you like the bagel bites they have there, though, and we could always get you a pink drink or something!”

Dario nodded, half paying attention to Matisse. He wanted to ask,  _ Joel really told you that? _ but refrained. He followed Matisse out to the car. Matisse looked back cautiously every few steps to make sure Dario was alright.

“Glad Ben and Jo left this behind for us,” Matisse said quietly, laughing softly as he climbed in. 

After they got their drinks, they decided to just hang out in the parking lot of the shopping center for a while. “Dude, I feel weird asking, but… are you and Joel like… a thing?”

“I think… I think we both like each other,” Dario laughed, his face starting to feel a bit hot, “I like Joel like that. I kind of always have. The hardest part about being traded away was not being around him anymore. I don’t know if he feels the same way, but… that’s how I feel.”

“Joel has been a completely different person since you’ve been around. He loves you, dude. I can tell. You brighten his entire presence.”

Dario was silent, looking down, stirring his pink drink. 

“I mean, you give him something to play for, y’know? He said he wanted to win the championship for you this year. It’s crazy. He’s just… he wants to win; he wants to do it for you.”

“You’re sure he doesn’t just… feel bad?”

“I don’t think anyone who just feels bad would ever care for someone like Joel cares for you, honestly.”

“I guess… I guess that’s true.”

“He talks about you like you’re his boyfriend, anyway.”

Dario smiled as he continued stirring his pink drink, trying to be nonchalant.  _ Maybe I’d like to be. _

“You excited for the game tonight?”

“Guess so.”

“I was thinking we could get some snacks and have a little party in your hotel room…”

Dario nodded, trying to seem enthusiastic. As much as he wanted to watch Joel, he knew he would rather be sleeping by the time the game was on. He just wanted Joel to come back and hold him. He could make something up about watching the game the next morning.

They spent most of that day driving around Miami — there wasn’t much Dario wanted to do, or really much he even could do, for that matter. He was exhausted just from leaving his hotel room. Matisse was happy just driving around, though, soaking up the sun with the windows down. 

While they were out, Joel was practicing. And planning. Ben noticed that he seemed a bit spacey during practice — not really interacting with anyone on the team, keeping to himself. 

“Is everything good?” Ben asked, pulling Joel aside after he bricked yet another three.

“Yeah, I’m f—”

“Just gotta make sure we’re making the Eastern Conference look good.”

“Mhm, yeah. I know,” Joel agreed, trying not to seem upset. 

“I don’t think everything’s good, Jo.”

Joel sighed and nearly rolled his eyes, “I’m all good, Ben. Maybe I’m just not used to not being the star.”

“The entire point of being here is that—” Ben suddenly stopped as he glanced towards the court to see Jimmy Butler approaching them.

“Hey, you two,” Jimmy laughed, putting his arms on both of their shoulders, “there’s a party at my place tonight, if you’re down. Figured I’d tell you now instead of after the game.”

“I’m down,” Ben immediately perked up, hearing news of a good time.

Joel hesitated to answer.  _ No, I can’t go; Dario needs me. What if something happens while I’m gone? I don’t want Matisse to have to stay with him all night, anyway, and he might need help… Tisse deserves to enjoy his weekend. I don’t think he had babysitting on his schedule. _

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Joel finally decided, nodding nonchalantly as if he didn’t just question everything.

“Awesome,” Jimmy grinned, “and keep up the great work on the court. I think we’re gonna take this one.”

Soon enough, it was about time to start getting ready. Joel smiled to himself as he opened his duffel bag, seeing Dario’s jersey folded neatly atop his other assorted crumpled articles of clothing. He slipped it on and then discreetly headed off to warmups and introductions, hoping Dario was awake to see it.

And he was, barely. Matisse was entertaining enough to keep him awake all day, although he eventually had to resort to messing with him to keep his eyes open.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Matisse sighed, poking Dario’s shoulder, “don’t miss this.”

**ASG PRESS: Joel Embiid has arrived for warmups wearing the jersey of Sixers teammate Dario Saric, who suffered a nasty head injury last month. I’ve been told he’s doing well and is watching the game at home in Philadelphia.**

“They shouted you out!” Matisse exclaimed, “but they said you were home in Philly...”

“No one’s really supposed to know I’m here,” Dario explained, his voice muffled by the shark plushie.

As the camera went by, Joel smiled into the bright lights and held up nine fingers.

“That’s love, if I’ve ever seen it,” Matisse added.

Dario wanted to be excited. He wanted to think Joel really did love him. But… he was too focused on the fact that he couldn’t be there to support him. He sighed softly, holding his shark plushie tighter in his arms. 

“Is something wrong?”

“I want to be there for him.”

“Aw, Dario…”

“I know I can’t go, but…”

“Yeah, we don’t want you getting any worse.”

“I just feel like he does so much for me and I can’t reciprocate.”

“Well… why not text him and ask if he wants to get dinner or something after the game?”

“I guess I could…”

**DARIO** : You’re doing great out there, want to get dinner after the game?

“Yeah, that’s great!” Matisse cheered him on, “send it!”

Dario hesitated for a moment, but hit send anyway. Joel would see it in a few hours. 

“And don’t feel bad about not being able to go,” Matisse tried to reassure him, “it’s just your injury. You would be there if everything was fine.”

Dario nodded, starting to feel dizzy for the first time since the day before. Was it from a lack of sleep? Maybe he was hungry? Dehydrated? Either way, he was too tired to do anything about it, and he wasn’t doing anything that could hurt himself. He kept his eyes on the TV, intently watching the game, hoping Joel didn’t care too much that he wasn’t there to cheer him on. Dario’s eyelids felt heavier than ever.

The East ended up winning. Ben and Joel both played well, although neither of them were necessarily outstanding. Dario could barely keep his eyes open as the postgame interviews came on, half buried in the blankets, shark plushie tightly held in his arms.

**ASG PRESS: You’ve been a consistent player for your entire career, and this All Star Game proves your consistency as an NBA player. What motivates you, Joel? How did you play so well tonight?**

**JOEL EMBIID: I do it all to make the city of Philadelphia proud. The city is my motivation.**

“You  _ can _ go to sleep if you want,” Matisse suggested, not sure why Dario was suddenly so insistent on staying up.

“I want to wait for Joel.”

“Fair enough…”

“He still hasn’t texted back.”

“So… are you even sure it’s worth it to wait?”

“I’m waiting.”

Matisse sighed, starting to get just a tad worried. He was sure Dario would eventually fall asleep, but… he just laid there, eyes wide, staring at the wall.

**MATISSE** : Joel are you coming back soon?

**MATISSE** : Dario isn’t acting right

An hour passed, and then another, and then another. Joel still hadn’t texted back, and Matisse was just growing more and more worried by the second. He figured Dario had no idea what time it was, but he was still laying there, wide awake, unmoving. It was nearly 1 AM. Any opportunity to go out for dinner had been practically shattered. 

“Dario,” Matisse went over to him, kneeling down to get to his eye level, “go to sleep. I don’t think he’s coming back for a while.”

Dario grumbled something softly to himself and then looked up at Matisse with tired eyes.

“You don’t look good. I’m turning off the lights. Get some sleep.”

“Tisse…” Dario nearly whispered, straining to look up at him as he reached to shut off the lamp.

“Hm?”

“I just… I want Jo…”

“I could try texting him again,” Matisse sighed, running out of ideas that could help Dario calm down.

On his way to texting Joel, Matisse opened Snapchat to see a new notification.

**TYLER HERRO (** **_PRIVATE STORY // SEXY BITCHES ONLY_ ** **):** Party at Jimmy’s | swipe up for addy 

“Dario… I think I know where Joel went,” Matisse leaned in closer to Dario, showing him the video on his phone. They watched it over and over, not really sure who any of the blurry shapes in the video were.

“We have to go get him…”

“Do we? I was thinking now that we know where he is, you could just go to sleep and forget about it…”

“Tisse. I want to go.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think we should—”

“We have to go.”

“You really want to go all that bad?”

Dario nodded, “I can’t sleep without him here…”

“I’m not good enough?”

“Tisse, I just…”

“Alright. Fine. We can go.”

Once they were in the car, Matisse made sure to take a painstakingly long time entering the address in the navigation, hoping Dario would realize it was a terrible idea to go to a party they technically weren’t even invited to. But Dario just stared ahead at the parking garage wall, eyes empty.

“I’m just telling you I don’t think this is a good idea,” Matisse sighed as he started backing out, checking the rear-view mirror and carefully heading out of the garage. 

“I just don’t know why he would …” Dario mumbled, still staring blankly ahead. Matisse didn’t even think he had blinked since they started driving.

“I mean, I kind of get it, but… that doesn’t mean it’s right,” Matisse added, “ that doesn’t make what we’re doing right either, though.”

Dario sighed softly, leaning against the headrest as he watched the flashing streetlights and billboards blitz by. He couldn’t help but worry that it was his fault that Joel didn’t text back — why wouldn’t Joel want to party rather than spend the night with him? As Matisse sped through stop lights, damn near Tokyo Drifting through suburban neighborhoods, Dario could only look out the window and think half-coherently about what the hell was going on. He could barely even gather up the energy to be angry — mostly at himself, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint. But he knew they were there, somewhere, in the parts of his brain that were hard to access when he got this tired.

“Alright, we’re here,” Matisse pulled up to the gate and entered the code he was given. They could already hear the music bumping from inside.

“I’m going to go in and look for Joel. You wait here, alright?” Matisse reassured Dario, “I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

Dario felt like he was waiting for hours, listening as it started to drizzle outside, raindrops hitting the roof of the car in an almost rhythmic pattern. He was starting to worry that Matisse wouldn’t come back; that he had left him behind like Joel did. He had no idea how long he was waiting, but eventually, he got out of the car and started trudging towards the front door, leaning a bit too heavily on his crutches, his entire body screaming at him to  _ stop, right now _ .

The music only got louder as Dario eventually found himself inside, overwhelmed by dark shapes shifting, LED lights flashing, basslines pounding in his chest, Joel nowhere in sight. Dario looked up, trying to spot Joel, or Matisse, or just someone,  _ anyone _ who could help find him, but the lights immediately disoriented him, and soon enough he had no idea where he was going, stumbling deeper into the house with every miscalculated step. No one even seemed to notice. Dario kept his head down, slowly making his way through the house without direction, somehow unacknowledged. 

**MATISSE** : I can’t find him

**MATISSE** : I’m back at the car where are you 

Dario felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, but ignored it, stumbling into a staircase that led upstairs, dropping to the floor, dazed.  _ He’s up there. He has to be. _ Dario looked up, but couldn’t see anything, zigzagging, electric blind spots rapidly filling his entire field of vision.  _ He’s up there. _

**_Missed call from Matisse_ **

**MATISSE** : Dario where are you

Dario started crawling up the stairs, slowly, one at a time, completely unable to see where he was going. The staircase felt endless. He thought he would never reach the top, but kept climbing anyway, straining for each next stair, ignoring any possibility of losing his grip and sliding down. Dario kept going, even though he wasn’t quite sure which way he was going anymore, and just pulling himself up the stairs felt harder than any playoff game or Olympic workout. And then, everything was flat. Dario blinked a few times, trying to get his vision back, but it didn’t help. He was still completely blinded, his field of vision a kaleidoscope of imaginary colors and patterns that he couldn’t quite focus on. Dario wanted to get up and figure out exactly where he was going, but he had lost his crutches somewhere along the way, and was forced to feel around on the ground, dragging himself along the hardwood floor, losing energy with each small movement. Eventually, he found a wall, and a doorway, and crawled inside the adjacent room, curling up in a ball on the cold tile floor. He laid there, cramped and disoriented, forced to listen to the pounding music as everything went dark.


	12. your cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ll make it through this if it kills me  
> Then, when it kills me I’ll come back  
> Jesus will make me a disciple  
> Or maybe he’ll let me be your cat

“Should we… should we move him?”

Luka had flicked on the bathroom light after noticing a dark shape on the floor in the midst of a conversation with Donovan Mitchell, arguably the most random person to have a conversation with at a Jimmy Butler rager. 

“No, that’s not good. We don’t know what happened.”

“You think he’s here with Ben and Jo?” Luka asked, hesitant to get any closer.

“Best idea would be to find them before doing anything else…” Donovan sighed and got down on the floor to try to assess Dario’s condition, “could you go look for them?”

“I think I saw them playing Just Dance in the basement a bit ago,” Luka ducked out of the doorway and ran for the staircase.

“Yeah, go check,” Donovan reassured him as he left, and then turned back to Dario, “how did you even get here? Joel told us you stayed home in Philly…” 

Dario’s eyes were bloodshot, glazed over, darting around wildly in response to the bright light. Donovan assumed he was awake. He looked awake, twitching, hitting his head on the floor with nearly every uncontrollable movement.

“How about let’s not do that,” Donovan grabbed a towel from the shelf and shoved it under Dario’s head, “don’t want you getting hurt.” Donovan got back on the ground, trying again to make eye contact with Dario. “Can you hear me? … Can you see me?”

Nothing. No discernible conscious response. Donovan sighed and resigned to just laying there, gently rubbing circles on the top of Dario’s arm. It didn’t help, or change anything for that matter. Dario still writhed without control, drooling down the side of his face onto the towel under his head. It wasn’t good, to say the least.

“I’m here, if you can hear me,” Donovan tried to reassure him, “I’ll stay with you. Don’t worry.” He stayed there, pressed to the floor, hoping whatever convulsion was going on would pass. But as each minute went by, the pit in his stomach grew deeper. Dario wasn’t stopping, and it could only get worse.

Luka finally came back with Joel a few minutes later, sweaty and frantic like he was tasked with saving the world from an impending asteroid strike.

“We found him like this,” Luka explained, exasperated.

“I had no idea he was even here,” Joel knelt down to try to help, but he quickly realized Dario had no idea what was going on. He looked scared, but didn’t even seem to recognize that Joel was there. Joel tried to keep it together, frozen, not sure what to do.  _ I abandoned him all day, and now this? _ He gently lifted Dario from the floor into his arms, but that didn’t help much. Dario continued to thrash blindly, kicking at nothing as his eyes chased something no one else could see. “It’s okay,” Joel whispered, “I’m here. calm down.” But it was like Dario couldn’t even hear him. 

“I think you should take him to the hospital,” Donovan suggested, getting up from the floor and standing by the doorway.

“I think you’re right.”

Soon enough, Joel had strapped Dario into the backseat of the rental car. Matisse slid in next to him, making sure he wouldn’t hurt himself. 

“Sorry for going out to find you,” Matisse finally spoke up.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have left you guys hanging all night,” Joel kept his eyes on the road, shoulders tight, definitely breaking a few speed limits. “Is Dario doing okay back there?”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s alright.”

Dario kept throwing punches at the hard part of the car behind the window, eyes wild and dazed like he  _ wanted _ to break his wrist. “Please stop doing that,” Matisse muttered, reaching to grab Dario’s arm without adjusting much. It barely worked. Dario kept breaking free and thrashing more.

“When— when will we get there?” Matisse asked, exasperated, barely dodging another flailing limb. 

“It says eight minutes.”

“Eight?!” Matisse sighed, “I think Dario might have a couple broken bones by then.”

“Just make sure he’s good.”

Matisse nodded, but it was starting to get difficult. He was dodging and ducking constantly, not even attempting to stop Dario anymore. Matisse was getting a bit bruised up, but Dario had no idea he was even there. He kept trying to make eye contact, but Dario just looked straight through him. 

Suddenly, the car stopped. They had made it. Matisse cracked the door open and tumbled out of the car, avoiding a hit from any flailing limbs. Joel unbuckled Dario from the seat and carefully lifted him into his arms. 

“Hold on, bud…” Joel said softly, trying to reassure Dario, if he could hear him. He tried to look into Dario’s eyes, but he was focused somewhere far beyond the night sky above them. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.” Joel smoothed Dario’s messy hair and calmly carried him into the building, grateful to at least have him in his arms for a few more minutes before reality set in.

They didn’t have to wait long before Dario was whisked away to be evaluated. As soon as Joel had the courage to tell the Sixers medical team, it was all over social media again.

**wojespn** : Sixers power forward Dario Saric has been hospitalized for an apparent neurological episode. No word on his condition just yet.

“They just had to tell,” Joel sighed, staring at the linoleum floor as he and Matisse sat in the waiting room. The front desk staff said they would be able to see Dario at some point during the night. It wasn’t as bad as before. They just had to get him situated in a room for as long or as little as he was going to be there, and then call Joel and Matisse to go back, and then… 

**process_szn** : wtf is a neurological episode lmao

**phillyphreak76** : this is like the stomach virus fiasco all over again 

**homiesharkstan** : someone please give him the world’s softest hug for me I just want him to come back and be ok

**benjo4ever** : yikes they should srsly consider giving up Dario’s roster spot… I don’t think it’s easy to come back from a serious head injury like this seems to be 

**freeroco33** : I just don’t understand why we traded for him AFTER he was already in a coma...

“I shouldn’t have gone out,” Joel mumbled to himself as he shut his phone off and slid it into his pocket, finally letting his guard down.

“No, you had every right to go out. It’s on me for dragging Dario out to go get you.”

“You were just doing what you thought was right.”

“Dario was just begging me to go get you, and… to be honest… it’s really worrying when he gets like that,” Matisse admitted, leaning back against the uncomfortable waiting room chair he was sitting in.

“I know. It’s hard to be around him sometimes.”

“You think so?”

“It’s upsetting to see him like that. He’s changed a lot since we first met.”

“That’s understandable,” Matisse agreed, wanting to prod a bit more. “What was he like before?”

Joel laughed softly, “funniest guy in the room without even knowing it. Always there to brighten your day. The most radiant person I’d ever met.”

“I wouldn’t say much has changed,” Matisse replied, tapping his feet on the tile floor, just a bit nervous about the conversation topic he had just unlocked. 

“A lot has changed. A lot you wouldn’t even know about.”

“But you still love him?”

“More than anyone.”

———

It was nearly sunrise by the time Joel and Matisse were finally allowed to see Dario. They followed the nurse through set after set of automatic doors, a maze of white corridors and tile floors. Joel didn’t want to be there. He would have rather been anywhere but there. He wished he had just checked his phone after the game. He wished Matisse didn’t feel like it was all his fault that they were even in this situation. But they trekked on anyway. Dario was in there somewhere.

The room was pitch dark when the nurse opened the door. “We had to put him on sedatives,” she explained, “and some medicine that would stop the seizures. He wouldn’t stop convulsing and it was probably about to cause brain damage if we didn’t step in. If we can take him off without the seizures starting again, we have to take him back for testing.” 

Joel nodded, trying to process all of that information while trying not to get upset in front of Matisse. “But he’s… he’s okay?”

“He’s doing well. It all comes down to taking him off the sedatives.”

“Right… when do you think you’re going to try?”

“Maybe in an hour or so. We’re going to give him some time to rest. He needs it.”

“... And what if you can’t do it?”

“We’ll wait a bit more and try again. It usually works after the first or second try.”

“That’s good to know,” Joel sighed, glancing at Dario, barely wanting to look at him, “but what if you can’t stop them?”

“Then we’ll probably be looking at some substantial brain damage.”

“Oh.” Joel glanced at Dario again. He looked peaceful. More peaceful than Joel had ever seen him, despite the fact that it was all artificial, just to stop the convulsions. But still, he was peaceful. 

“That’s highly unlikely, though,” the nurse reassured Joel, “so you shouldn’t even worry about it.”

“Uh… okay.”

“I’ll be back in a half hour, alright? There’s a button if you need anything.”

Joel nodded as Matisse gave the nurse a silent thumbs up. 

“He doesn’t look good,” Matisse nearly whispered as he watched Joel slowly approach Dario.

“It’s okay. He’s been having seizures for like, hours,” Joel sighed, “I’m just glad they’re not keeping him awake.”

Dario laid still, head back on the pillow, oxygen mask on but thankfully breathing mostly on his own this time. One of his hands was bandaged up, presumably from his wild thrashing earlier in the night. “I’m here,” Joel mumbled softly, “you’re going to be okay.” Dario stayed silent, unmoving. Joel guessed he had no idea he was even there. It felt dreadfully reminiscent of his initial injury. “Please be okay. Please make it. For me.”

Matisse was too nervous to even approach the bed. He wasn’t even sure if it felt right to watch Joel nearly break down.  _ I’ll drive back to the hotel when it’s time. Holy shit, I feel bad. We really could lose Dario tonight. _ He shifted slightly before sitting down on the little sofa by the window, not entirely sure how to feel.  _ I think this is my fault. Yeah, it’s my fault. _ Matisse looked over at Joel as he held Dario’s hand, speaking to him softly, trying to reassure him that everything would be alright. 

“I-I think I’m going to step out for a minute,” Matisse got up from the sofa, “I’m going to find a bathroom or something…”

Joel looked up and nodded silently as Matisse headed out. He then turned back to Dario. “I hope you know I’m here, somewhere deep in there,” he sighed. Dario’s hand felt cold and lifeless. “I know you can make it through this. I love you. I’ve loved you since draft night.” Joel gently smoothed Dario’s hair, trying to reassure him in any way he could, “I love you so much.”

The nurse finally came back a few minutes later, slightly startling Joel. “We’re going to start taking him off the sedatives now,” she explained, “it might take a while for him to fully wake up.”

“How long?”

“Two or three hours. You’ll have to leave once he starts really waking up so we can take him back for testing.”

“Oh, okay…”

The nurse reached over to stop the flow of sedatives into Dario’s arm. “Here we go, then.”

———

Dario woke up in a field of wildflowers with a purple sky filled with stars above him. Startled, he tried to sit up, but he couldn’t. He was practically glued to the ground, on his back, forced to stare up at the sky. He looked around as much as he could in a desperate attempt to figure out where he was, but gave up quickly. He couldn’t move. At all.  _ Am I… am I even alive? _ Dario stared up at the violet sky. He swore he could make out the faint lines of ceiling tiles. Or maybe he couldn’t. He could make out some faint murmuring in the distance, but wasn’t entirely sure who could be making all of that noise. He was alone. Entirely. The wildflowers smelled so sweet it was almost sickening.

“Are you okay? Are you comfortable?” A voice echoed. Dario couldn’t recognize it. He went to answer, but couldn’t, his vocal cords paralyzed. And it was only getting darker. The stars brightened as the sky became a deep shade of navy blue.  _ What happened after the All Star Game? _ Dario wondered, his thoughts pounding in his head, which he quickly realized was starting to feel like it wanted him dead.  _ Where’s Joel? _

Everything swirled. He suddenly felt dizzy, upside down, sick to his stomach. But he still couldn’t move at all, as hard as he tried. Looking up, he saw a faint figure next to him. He tried to reach out, hoping it was Joel or just someone who could explain what was going on, but he couldn’t even lift his arm. And as he continued to regain consciousness, that terrified him.

Soon, Dario began to recognize the machines around him and hear their faint beeping. He felt the pinching sensation of the tube in his arm.  _ Oh god. Something must have happened to me. What happened?  _ His eyes flicked back and forth, searching for some sort of answer as his vision kaleidoscoped in and out of blind spots that were more like fireworks. And then, he felt a hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair back.  _ Jo _ , Dario started to say, or at least tried to, realizing that not a single muscle in his vocal cords was doing its part to help him to speak. 

“Hey,” Joel said softly, noticing that Dario had opened his eyes, “I’m here.”

Dario’s eyes stopped flitting around as he focused on Joel, staring at him intently.  _ Please help. I don’t know what happened. _

“Don’t be scared,” Joel sighed, “they’re taking care of you.”

_ I can’t move. I can’t feel anything. I’m scared. _

Joel sat there, gently rubbing Dario’s forehead and whispering words of reassurance until the nurse came back.

“We have to take him back for testing now,” she explained, “he’s doing great, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Dario felt Joel lift his hand off his forehead, and then couldn’t see him anymore.  _ Jo? Come back… _ He couldn’t do anything but stare at the ceiling, beeping machines all but filling his peripheral vision. And then, he was moving, lifted up to be taken somewhere different, his head tipping back, heavy. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as everything began to swirl around him before he was finally put back down, on a different platform, sent down the hall.

“We just have to do a few quick tests, okay?”

Dario’s eyes finally snapped back into focus as he heard the voice coming from behind him. He wanted to give some sort of affirmation, but was completely paralyzed. He strained to do anything more than blink, but he couldn’t. He just stared up at the ceiling tiles flying by as he was rushed to wherever he was going to do testing.

“Alright Dario, we’re going to put you in the machine for an MRI to make sure everything’s working ok and a CT scan to make sure you don’t have any nerve damage. It’s loud, but won’t hurt you,” the nurse explained, “I would give you the emergency stress ball to squeeze if you needed to get out, but it doesn’t look like you can move your hands…”

_ I can’t _ , Dario thought to himself, blinking back tears as he stared up at the ceiling. He faintly felt himself get lifted up again, that same floppy feeling as before, and then set down to go into the machine.  _ I want to go home. I want to know what happened. I want… I want Joel to come back. I’m scared. Is that okay? Is it okay to be scared? You’re twenty fucking five, you shouldn’t be scared of an MRI… _ Dario stared at the ceiling of the machine, watching as his vision began kaleidoscoping into fractal patterns and fireworks.  _ I wonder if I’ll ever be able to move again. Maybe I’ll be stuck like this forever. That would be shit. I don’t think Joel would want to keep me around if I get stuck like this. I’d be a shit boyfriend. I’d be so floppy. A fucking ragdoll. Do my parents know what happened to me? Would they want to take care of me forever? Am I already dead? Am I on track to die right here in this MRI machine? Holy fuck, I wish I could squeeze that stress ball and get out of here. _

“You’re almost done! Just a few more minutes,” the voice crackled through the headphones that had been placed on his head. 

Dario fought the feeling of his eyes closing and let out a small sound closer to a whimper than anything else.  _ I’m going to fucking die here. I won’t even get to say goodbye to Joel. I hope he’s waiting for me. I just want to see him. Even if I’m stuck like this. I just want to see him again. Fuck, I’ve gotta make it. _

Soon enough, it was over. Without even realizing, Dario found himself back in his original room.

“We’re gonna test your reflexes and feeling and such as we wait for those results to come back.”

Trying to show approval in any form, Dario resorted to just blinking again.  _ Yup. Got it.  _

“You’re doing great, don’t worry. You were just heavily sedated. It’s not fully out of your system at all, just enough for your brain to be awake and ready for testing. We’re going to do this right now just to see where you are in terms of coming off the sedatives.”

Dario blinked again, and probably would have sighed in relief if he could have. He wouldn’t be stuck forever. He glanced towards the window. It was definitely daytime now.  _ Are there more games today? Should I be going home? Is Joel at the beach without me? _

“Okay, look at me…”

Dario focused back on the nurse,  _ I’m looking _ .

“We’re going to start with your head first,” the nurse explained, “can you nod for me?”

It took everything in him, but Dario finally managed to move his head. He looked up, expecting praise, something, anything. But they just moved on to his shoulders, and he quickly realized just how paralyzed he still was.

Although the impending panic of the situation washed over him in waves, Dario almost felt removed from his physical form just enough to feel at peace. However, whenever the room would spin around him and he would lose his balance despite just being laid flat in a bed, he wanted someone to lightly touch his arm, or kiss his cheek, or tell him that everything was going to be alright. Stability. That’s what he wanted. Closure. An end goal. A way out.

“You’re doing great, Dario,” the nurse finally acknowledged his effort after he was able to wiggle his toes by the end of the exam, “I’m going to leave you to rest for a bit now, ok? The sedatives should be out of your system in a couple hours, and we can evaluate you from there.”

Dario blinked, exhausted, trying to show affirmation. After a few long minutes of staring at the ceiling, streaks of sun flitting across the room in the sequestered daylight, he finally fell asleep. 

———

Dario woke up to the sensation of someone lightly stroking his arm. He was so tired he could barely open his eyes, but he did, wanting to find out who was next to him.

“Oh, you’re up!” 

Dario turned his head to see Joel sitting next to him. He smiled, and as he felt himself blushing, the heart monitor beeped faster and faster. 

“Don’t get too excited now,” Joel laughed, “we want to get you out of here, yeah?”

Not wanting to trigger any other neurological episodes, Dario tried to take a deep breath to calm himself down. 

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Joel sighed, “you had me so worried.”

“How long was I out for…?” Dario whispered, almost too exhausted to speak.

“It’s 10 AM now,” Joel explained, “but I don’t know if that means anything.”

“Oh…”

“We got here around 3,” Joel continued, “I’m not really sure what you did between then and now, though.”

“What… happened?”

“Uh… I can explain later. It’s kind of a long story.”

“They said something about seizures but I don’t… remember… and I fucked up my wrist…?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, you’re okay now. Just get some rest, alright?”

Dario nodded, too exhausted to keep speaking. He stared up at Joel with wide eyes that were still somewhat bloodshot. But he looked better than before, nearly all the way conscious, grateful just to be alive and awake. Joel kept gently stroking Dario’s arm, trying to get him to rest, until the nurse came back.

“He’s almost ready to go; he’s passed every test so far, thankfully. MRI and CT scan came back clear as of the data from his previous injury. Now that he’s fully off the sedatives, we just have to check his motor skills and coordination,” she explained to Joel as Dario was asleep yet again.

“That sounds good,” he responded, not really sure what was about to go down, but wanting to get Dario home as soon as possible.

“You can help, if you want. It’s always good to have encouragement from a friend,” the nurse suggested, “want to wake him up for me?”

Joel nodded, and gently poked Dario to wake him up. He slowly opened his eyes, and when he realized it was time for more tests, he blinked a few times to keep himself awake.  _ Not this again. _

“Alright, first test,” the nurse held out a pen, “can you grab this for me?”

Dario reached, but missed, and the pen fell through his weak grasp.  _ No, no no not this again… _

“Are you dizzy at all?” She asked, picking the pen up from the floor.

“A— a little.”

“Double vision?”

“Hmm, not really…”

“Oh, ok. I was going to have you get up and try walking, but maybe that’s not a good idea right now.”

“I-I think I could try…” Dario glanced at Joel for reassurance. Joel nodded, just wanting to see if everything was ok, or if he would have to spend another few weeks hand-feeding Dario toast before he could move his hands again.

“You think so?”

Dario nodded and scrambled to sit up. Joel noticed that he had that dazed but determined look in his eyes again as he swung over the side of the bed. 

“You’re sure you got this?” Joel asked, hesitant to tell Dario flat out to stop.

“Mhm,” Dario mumbled as he pushed himself up.

“Careful,” Joel said softly, hovering close by, just in case. 

Dario gazed out at the cold tile floor ahead of him, reminded of his initial motor skills tests barely even a month ago. He had to do better this time. It had been long enough for him to be better than the first time. But as hard as he tried, he barely made it two steps before his legs gave out and he collapsed into Joel’s arms. 

“Oh shit,” Joel caught Dario and tried to steady him, but felt that he was trembling. “You should absolutely not be up and about right now.”

“I’m good, I promise, let me try again…” Dario said nearly under his breath, his words all jumbling together as Joel dropped him back onto the bed, “I just want to go home…”

“Our flight back to Philly is later tonight. Maybe if you’re good we’ll be able to catch it.”

Dario stayed silent, just wanting to curl up into a ball and disappear. He still barely knew what had happened the night before, let alone what else could possibly be wrong with him now. He was walking and using his hands fine the day before; what had happened? Why was Joel talking to him like that, like it was his fault for being so fucked up?

“You guys should be good to go soon. We can do another walking test with some assistive devices, as it really seems like weakness and balance are the main issues here. Everything seems to be lining up with the data we have from your previous injury,” the nurse explained, “so it’s… kind of like you’re back to square one, but only temporarily.”

Dario nodded, pretending he could comprehend anything that was just said to him. He looked up at Joel, hoping for a little more insight.

“You left your crutches at Jimmy’s,” Joel explained.

“Jimmy?”

“Butler.”

“What was I doing…”

“I’ll explain later. We just have to get you out of here for now, so please keep trying with these tests, alright?”

“I’m trying my best.”

“Good. Keep trying. I’ll tell you what happened last night when you get out, okay?”

“Sounds good,” Dario pressed his palm to his forehead.  _ Fuck. Constant headache’s back. _ As the nurse mentioned something about the next motor skills test, Dario looked up at Joel, hoping the fire in his eyes wouldn’t be mistaken for confusion again. 


	13. hospital flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> does it feel wrong to you?  
> it doesn't feel right to me at all  
> does it feel wrong to you?

Joel had to wheel Dario out to the rental car. He debated just carrying him. Maybe it would have been easier.

“Can you tell me what happened now?” Dario asked softly as soon as the doors were closed.

“Uh…”

“I think I have the right to know.”

Joel sighed, “sure. Yeah, sure.”

Dario took it surprisingly well. He didn’t even ask many questions. Maybe he was just tired. He was probably just tired. It was a lot of information to take in. 

“How did I fuck up my wrist?” Dario examined the bright orange cast on his right arm, slightly disappointed in Joel for picking that color.

“You were throwing punches at everything. Bad punches. More like smacking shit with the back of your wrist. Luckily it’s not anything too bad, just a tiny fracture. That’ll be off in a few weeks.”

Dario nodded, finally putting his arm back down, “I’ve gotta be ready for the playoffs…”

Joel nearly froze, but realized he was driving and had to keep his hands on the wheel and not react.  _ Is he still out of it? Did the seizures fuck him up even more? … Has he been completely in denial this entire time without me realizing? _ “You won’t be ready.”

Dario stared down at his bright orange cast, not daring to look up into the sun. He knew he would probably never see the court as an NBA player ever again, but something in him wouldn’t let him believe it. “But… it’s All Star Weekend, and the playoffs are in a month and a half…”

“Dario. You can’t even walk right now, or put your hands around a basketball for that matter, let alone run and shoot and do all the things you need to do on the court.”

“I just want to play. I just want to be normal again.”

“You can work towards it, but it won’t be for the playoffs.”

“I think I could…”

“Maybe for next season. But even then… you just nearly died from being around bright lights and loud noises… imagine what an NBA game would do to you.”

Dario nodded, silent, acknowledging what Joel had to say but desperately not wanting to believe it.

“Are you alright, bud?” 

“Mhm.”

“You won’t be ready for the playoffs, bud. I know you want to be. It’s okay.”

“It just sucks… this just sucks.”

“I know.”

“You don’t,” Dario sighed, finally looking up at Joel, “there’s so much you don’t know.”

Dario waited in the car as Joel went to get the bags, graciously packed by Ben and Matisse earlier that day. Their flight was in only a few hours, and it was a trek to the airport. Dario slept basically the entire time. Joel woke him up to return the rental car and get on the plane, but he slept for basically the entire flight, too. And then passed out as soon as they got home. Joel carried him to his room before finally getting to relax.

Joel flopped down on his bed. He had no idea what to do, so he texted Ben.

**JOEL** : Did you make it home?

**BEN** : yeah lol

**BEN** : so cute that you’re checking on me awwww

**BEN** : how’s your boyfriend doing btw

**JOEL** : Asleep

**JOEL** : And he’s not my boyfriend 

**BEN** : so I guess we’ll see how he is in the morning? 

**JOEL** : I guess so

**JOEL:** I think he’s pretty gone rn. He said earlier he thinks he could be ready for the playoffs

**BEN:** oh god

**BEN:** is that new?

**JOEL:** He’s never said it before but also he was so out of it

**BEN:** yikes

**BEN:** they didn’t say there was any more brain damage right

**JOEL** : No but they said he’s basically back where he started last month

**JOEL:** I’m so worried about him

**BEN:** well that’s awful

**JOEL:** I love him so much but it’s exhausting taking care of him and I just want him to get better

**BEN:** wait

**BEN:** did you just say you love him

**BEN:** PLEASE KISS OH MY GOD AKFJSHRKAJRJSFK

**JOEL:** Well yeah

**JOEL:** I do love him

**BEN:** STOPPPP YOU TWO WOULD BE SO CUTE TOGETHER

**BEN:** ring the bell on pride night

**JOEL:** I want it to be like that I guess

**JOEL:** But also I feel responsible for him

**BEN:** well he’s gonna get better, he was getting better before

**JOEL:** I should go check on him

**BEN:** GIVE HIM A LIL KISS

Joel laughed, tossing his phone down onto his bed and sneaking into Dario’s room without even turning any lights on. Dario was still fast asleep, just as Joel had assumed — curled up in his messy blankets, arms wrapped around his shark plushie. Joel crept over to him, half to make sure he was still breathing, half to do exactly what Ben had suggested. Joel felt bad going to leave the room — Dario had been nearly dead the night before, but was now asleep, peaceful,  _ fine _ . He had never been more relieved that things were so boring. 

“We need to talk,” Joel said softly, sitting down on the edge of Dario’s bed, not wanting to leave so soon. “Tomorrow, obviously. As you’re asleep.”

Much to Joel’s relief, there was no response from Dario. Nothing that would indicate that he was awake.

“I don’t know why I’m talking to you. You can’t even hear me. And I wouldn’t want you to.” Joel wanted to run his hands through Dario’s hair, but stopped himself. He couldn’t wake him up now. “I guess I was just so worried about you. But you’re here, you’re alive, and… I love you. More than anyone.”

After a few minutes, Joel left the room, hoping nothing else would go wrong overnight. Just before falling asleep, he thought for a moment that maybe he should stop worrying so much.

—

Joel woke up early the next morning, not wanting Dario to have to wait too long to be cared for. He had no idea what that day’s inevitable dilemma would be — Dario was unpredictable, a tornado trapped in the body of someone who couldn’t walk ten feet without struggling. And as Joel thought about it, he realized that Dario still somehow thought he would be ready to play professional basketball in just over a month. Joel made a promise last night. They had to talk about it. Maybe he would be brave enough to bring it up. 

“Good morning,” Joel grinned as he swung around the doorway into Dario’s room.

“Morning,” Dario mumbled, still curled up in the exact same position as the night before, but this time with his phone in his hands, presumably scrolling through twitter to see what people were saying. But Joel didn’t want to assume.

“Want breakfast?”

“Hmm, sure.”

“Want to come to the kitchen?”

Dario nodded, wanting to act like nothing had changed, but unsure of what that entailed, considering it was quite obvious that he had been set back weeks in his recovery. He was going out to dinner in South Beach two days ago and now could barely make it to the kitchen table. He had gotten worse. He knew it. Joel knew it. They both pretended not to acknowledge it.

Joel walked with Dario to the kitchen, reassuring him whenever he needed a break and straightening him out whenever he started careening to the left. Dario was thankful, but embarrassed. As always.

“It’s not your fault. It’s just that your motor cortex got all jumbled. Like, okay, after that game when you went back to the hotel? That’s where the blood started pooling, and…” Joel rambled, “oh god. I’ll shut up. I don’t know why I’m saying all of this.”

“You’re nervous,” Dario pointed out, blunt, “big game tomorrow or something?”

“... versus the Celtics,” Joel sighed, concealing the fact that there was much more on his mind.

“I can come, if you want,” Dario suggested, “just stick me up with the media people and pop some big headphones on.”

“You’re not ready,” Joel nearly jumped, startled by the toast popping out of the toaster. 

“I can try.”

“Not for tomorrow… you’re still recovering from this weekend—”

“If you want me to be there, I’ll be there.”

“How about you just… come with me to practice today, and we’ll see.” Their conversation would have to wait.

Dario nodded, not knowing exactly where Joel was going with that idea. Joel watched as Dario struggled to pick up his toast, and thought about stepping in before he eventually figured it out. He would be alright. Joel had to stop worrying so much. 

—

Dario noticed that it was much harder to walk all the way to the gym than it was when he was last at the practice facility. Joel nearly considered just carrying him to his usual spot on the bench, but he didn’t. Dario just hoped no one cared enough to notice him. 

Unfortunately for Dario, some media reps started hovering around him as soon as he got to his spot on the bench. He answered their questions politely. He didn’t say much. He knew the entire internet would tell him he sounded drunk or out of it no matter what he did, so it didn’t even mean anything. There was nothing he could do about it. It would be best just to do what he could and move on. The interview would make Twitter either way, and people would say whatever they wanted. Such is the internet.

After his little unwanted interview, Dario couldn’t even stop to say hi to Shake, who was waving at him from across the gym, before being whisked off to a little workout room by some coach he had never met to work on some basic conditioning. All of the exercises they tried to get him started on were near-impossible — his grip was weak and he had almost no core strength — so they resorted to some basic physical therapy. It was almost impossible just to walk without support. If he gave up there, his career might have been done. But… he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Dario was never like that. 

He eventually did get to talk to Shake, who popped in in between drills as Dario was figuring out what it felt like to bounce a basketball on the floor. It didn’t feel the same as he remembered, but at least he was happy to not be alone in there, watched by way too many coaches and trainers and people in the organization who just had nothing better to do.

“How was Miami?” Shake asked, bright and cheery as usual.

“Uh, good.”

“I… I heard about the other night, though.”

“Yeah. That part sucked.”

“So, you’re better now? You’re starting to actually practice again?”

“If you could call this practicing,” Dario sighed, looking up at Shake in the bright fluorescent light.

Shake laughed and sat down on the floor across from Dario, “pass it.”

Dario rolled the ball to Shake, or at least tried to. Shake rolled it back to him.

“See? You’re doing something! Hand-eye coordination!”

“I want to be ready for the playoffs.”

“Well, this is a start.”

They sat on the floor for almost an hour, just talking and rolling the ball back and forth. Dario hated to admit that it was tiring, and that he was dizzy, and that he could barely gather up the strength to roll a ball across the floor. Shake had to prop him up against the wall at one point so he could keep going. Eventually, someone came in to yell at Shake for being missing, so he scrambled to get back to practice.

“Hey, Shake?” Dario asked as he was leaving.

“Yeah?”

“Do you… think I should come to the game tomorrow?”

Shake paused in the doorway for a moment, and then nodded. Dario gave him a thumbs up before the coach, whose name he still didn’t even know, set him up for another conditioning exercise. Someone with a camera came in at one point, but Dario ignored them, pretending it was three years ago and he was still that unbothered rookie who charmed the city by day and broke ankles on the nightly. But he wasn’t that kid anymore, and he couldn’t charm anyone or break anyone’s ankles anymore for that matter, so he wondered where those photos would end up. Probably not anywhere that would make him feel good. 

Joel was almost overjoyed to see that Dario was all sweaty and disgusting when he went to pick him up after practice ended. It felt almost like before. It felt almost like that playoff run. Almost. Not at all. Dario was so tired he could barely keep it together to walk back to the car, but he had to at least pretend everything was fine so Joel wouldn’t worry.

“So… what did you do? I saw you get whisked off somewhere, and then you disappeared for like three hours.”

“Uh… they had me walk around a lot, like down this hallway a few times, and then Shake came in and we just rolled a ball back and forth on the ground for a while.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Shake said he wants me to come to the game tomorrow.”

“Shake has no idea what’s going on with your head.”

“Fair,” Dario nudged at his water bottle, hoping Joel would take the hint and open it for him, “but I think I could go.”

“Not on the bench.”

“No, but I could… I could go up with Zum and Alaa. They’ve got a soundproof studio.”

“I just don’t want you getting overwhelmed. Not even a day ago I wasn’t sure if you would make it out alive.”

“But… I did.”

Joel stayed silent for a moment. Dario looked up at him, and then out the window, and then back down at his bright orange cast.

“But we don’t know that, Dario. You could have another one tomorrow night in the broadcasting booth and die this time.”

Dario’s turn to stay silent. He felt powerless. His brain was all jumbled up and Joel was so eloquent and had power over him and knew exactly what to say. Dario tried to think of something that would change Joel’s mind, but couldn’t come up with anything. 

“I just don’t want anything happening is all. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

**DARIO** : Shake

**DARIO** : Convince Jo thst I can go tomorrow

**DARIO** : Pleaaasweeeee :)))

**SHAKE** : um I’ll try??

**SHAKE** : are you talking to him

**DARIO** : Yeah he doesn’t want me to go

“Jo, I… I can’t just keep hiding away. I want to go.”

“I brought you to All Star Weekend and you almost fucking died.”

Dario stayed quiet. There was no way out of this one. They crossed the river back into Philly.  _ There was no way out of this one. _

“I’m going to shower when we get home,” Dario tried to change the subject, almost trying to test Joel, wanting to see how doting and overprotective he was in that moment — because all day, it was like Dario couldn’t be left alone. He had to be tended to, constantly.

“Are you going to need help with that?”

“... No.”

“You can’t get your cast wet.”

Something felt wrong. Dario wanted to open the car door and fling himself out onto the road, even though they were speeding down I-76. Something wasn’t right.

“Are we fighting?” Dario asked, “I feel like we’re fighting.”

“I don’t think we’re fighting,” Joel sighed, “we just need to talk some things out.”

“Okay. You first.”

Silence. Almost a whole minute of it. Dario was terrified that he had fucked up — his heart was racing, he was starting to see kaleidoscopes in his peripheral vision, he was sure that Joel was going to kick him out of his apartment and send him off to live with whichever teammate wanted to care for him, like a lost puppy. He braced himself. 

“I’m worried about you, bud. You should be resting more, at least for the next few days. What happened on Sunday night was serious, and it was terrifying. We all thought you might not make it. I know you don’t remember it, so you probably don’t think it was anything that bad, but… we thought you were going to die.”

“I understand that. I get that part,” Dario nodded, “I just… I’m tired of resting and waiting and not doing anything all day. I’ve been wanting to make a change — I mean, going to Miami with you was supposed to be part of that — and now you’re just trying to shut it down. I’ll be careful, I promise. I was careful at practice today. There’s no need to worry about me as much as you do.”

“It wasn’t careful to go to Jimmy’s rager. That’s why I’m so worried. You made one bad decision and ended up almost dead. And that was my fault.”

“I only went to find you. It was your fault for leaving me and Tisse hanging all night, but it was our fault for going out to find you instead of just… being careful. Resting, like you said.”

“Exactly. I’m sorry.”

“You’re good,” Dario didn’t know what else to say. He glanced out the window. The entire city looked grey and dreary. Maybe it would snow later. Snow always looked pretty from Joel’s apartment. “Can we just… forget that ever happened? Or move on from it?” It hurt Dario’s head to try to remember all of the events of that night. He remembered Joel wearing his jersey to the All Star Game, and then zooming down the highway in the rental car, and then nothing. After that, he only remembered waking up the next morning and he only knew what he had been told. 

“Yeah, Dario. We can. I think we both just need to be more careful. And communicate more.”

“Agreed,” Dario said softly, glad that this whole All Star Weekend fallout was coming to an end.

“So… I guess we can work together,” Joel reached over and grabbed Dario’s hand, “I want to help you get better, and we’re going to do it together.”

Dario looked up at Joel and nodded, not really sure what else there was to say. Regardless of the outcome, Dario wanted to go to that game. He just hoped he had done a good enough job convincing Joel. 

—

They had talked it out. It didn’t help Joel stop worrying, at all, but it helped him see that he should probably try to act like he was less worried. He taped a plastic bag around Dario’s cast and sent him off to shower, hoping he could stop worrying about Dario for long enough to just let him take care of himself, or at least try to.  _ Let him get better _ . It was eating Joel up inside, and he had absolutely no idea why.

**SHAKE** : hey Joel

**SHAKE** : Dario told me earlier that he really wants to go to the game tomorrow

**JOEL** : He’s been saying that to me too

**SHAKE** : I think he should go

**JOEL** : Idk

**JOEL** : It might be too much for him

**SHAKE** : there’s no way to know unless we just see what happens

**JOEL** : That’s true I guess

**SHAKE** : if he gets overwhelmed or anything starts to go wrong people are there to help and can get him to somewhere quiet

**JOEL** : That’s the thing though

**JOEL** : It’s hard to find anywhere quiet in the WFC during games

**SHAKE** : they could even take him outside 

**SHAKE** : it’ll be ok, just bring him tomorrow

**SHAKE** : you won’t worry about him during the game

**SHAKE** : and if something happens I’m sure they’ll tell us

Joel meant to respond, but heard a distant crashing sound from what seemed to be the bathroom attached to Dario’s room. He dashed over and almost busted the door down, but decided to just knock and see what would happen.

“You alright in there?”

“... ‘m good,” Dario sounded muffled from the other side of the door. Joel couldn’t tell if the water was on or not or really anything else about the situation for that matter.

“Okay! Well, I’m here if you need help.”

Silence.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Uh… it’s okay.” Joel walked away from the door, back into the living room, flopping down on the couch. 

_ I should check Twitter. _

_ … _

_ That’s a terrible idea. _

He did it anyway.

**sixers** : the Homie is in the building. I repeat THE HOMIE IS IN THE BUILDING

**homiesharkstan** : WOOOOOOO HE’S IN THE BUILDING AHFHAJEJAKFKSFJ

**IcyProcessSZN** : get him out of the building 

**danny123456ers** : they’re really letting a make a wish kid train with them LMAO

**jupitersayzzz** : yay !!!

**EmbiidsWRLD** : it’s great to see he’s with the team again but when are we getting that disabled player option…? he’s not coming back anytime soon we can’t just keep his roster spot

**ThybulleGuyble** : he is literally rolling a ball on the floor this is a joke PLEASE cut this man

**ZacqTalksBasketball** : nice to see that he’s there but he looks physically ill… I’m worried

“Jo…? Could you come in here? Please?”

Joel went into the bathroom to find Dario sitting against the wall, his sweatshirt half over his head.

“I get dizzy every time I try to—”

“It’s okay,” Joel pulled it down the rest of the way and flipped the hood over Dario’s head. “Let’s just go get that bag off your arm now.”

Dario rested for the rest of the day, just as Joel wanted. He wished he had just let Joel help him shower, as he still felt like he hadn’t washed away practice and the hospital and All Star Weekend as a whole. He only had one weak, damaged hand to work with, anyway. Joel should have known that. Regardless, Dario was curled up on the couch, listening lazily as Joel spent hours on the phone. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was saying, as Joel was in another room and Dario’s consciousness was floating in and out — something about the game, and the Wells Fargo Center, and Dario knew it was about him. He pretended it wasn’t, and eventually passed out, too tired to keep listening. 


End file.
